


Falling to Fly

by FluffyGlitterPantsDragon



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: A bit of Whump too, Charlotte's Funeral, Cuddles, Dan-centric, Douchifer, Eventual reveal, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I Heart Dan, I Swear A Lot, Lucidan, M/M, No Smut, Recreational Drug Use, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, There aren't nearly as many cuddles as I planned on, There will be blanket burritos, Wing Grooming, angst first though, season 4, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-06-27 04:36:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 58,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyGlitterPantsDragon/pseuds/FluffyGlitterPantsDragon
Summary: Just after Cain's death. Chloe has seen Lucifer's face. The police station has more or less come to a standstill due to FBI interference and Dan is trying to sort out several confusing things. Spoilers.





	1. Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my super awesome beta Just_Mad_Enough for beta-ing a new first chapter after I shredded the first one.
> 
> This is going to be harder than I thought.

 “Detective Espinoza. Thank you for making time for us.”

Like he had a choice.

Generic FBI Guy number Eight had dragged him in for a _meeting_. Dan had run out of excuses and no murder case had cropped up to rescue him at the last minute either. He spared a glance at the one-way mirror and wondered who was on the other side.

He hadn’t been present for Pierce’s death. The list of living witnesses to the attack or to the events leading up to that afternoon was short. As for those who also worked for the LAPD, and were contractually obligated to talk, the list was even shorter. Chloe bore the brunt of it. All he knew was that she wasn’t saying much. Federal agents left shaking their heads after discussions with her.

All major cases were diverted to other precincts until a federal agency cleared them. Work became a daily living nightmare. Slogging through oceans of red tape to file a case note became routine. Even Ella had lost her fervor for being _there_ and helpful, locking her office door regularly. She had been questioned several times, depressing her normally perky personality. That in and of itself should be considered a crime.

_Her words reverberated in his brain. “_ _Pierce, he tried to kill us.”_

_‘“I don’t know how, but I am. Or maybe I do know…Maybe I’ve been avoiding the biggest truth-_ ’ a collection of her last words to him over the phone. Pierce lay dead on a chipped marble floor within minutes. She wouldn’t say what that even meant.

Dan didn’t see a name hanging on the tag around the guy’s neck. Balding, trending toward heavy, and white, FBI Guy could have walked out of any scene in a movie that required a ‘generic desk-sitting FBI agent.’

He never cared for being on this side of the interrogation table

He opted for not verbally responding until he was asked an actual question, but he nodded at his name in agreement.

FBI Guy turned on his tablet to take notes. “We’re here today to discuss the death of Lieutenant Marcus Pierce and the actions surrounding how and where he died. Hopefully we can cover ‘why’ as well. How well did you know Lt. Pierce?”

 _He hated my guts. I’m glad he’s dead. I almost had to deal with him as Trixie’s step-father and it happened so fast that I don’t even know how my daughter felt about it._ “Not well. He and I weren’t drinking buddies if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You didn’t know him socially? Never saw him outside of work?” the question sounded casual but Dan knew better.

Dan decided to be happily uncooperative. “Nope,” _and now that he’s dead, I won’t have to._

“Did you work with him directly?”

He sat back, annoyed. “You’ve got my case files and work history, so yes.”

FBI sighed. “I’m not your enemy here. I don’t enjoy questioning detectives who are just trying to do their jobs. The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner we leave all of you alone again and let you go back to work. Try to believe me when I tell you I don’t _want_ to be here either.”

 _The friendly-help-me-help-you-game. Okay._ Dan deliberately raked his gaze over the nameless tag. “Fine, what should I call you?”

“Agent Mac.”

 _Agent Mac-n-cheese it is._ Dan cleared his throat. “Like the computer company?”

“Short for McBeth. I prefer Mac. No interesting ancestry either.”

Dan clasped his hands on the table, in a friendly manner. “Okay, Agent Mac.” _‘N-Cheese._ His accent put him out of D.C. but that much was expected.

Mac attempted to resume the interview. “So some of these questions are going to be personal, but we have our reasons for asking them. Do you have an opinion on the Lieutenant’s romantic involvement with your ex-wife?”

 _Jesus Christ, yes._ Dan hoped his ‘cop face’ hadn’t slipped. This was going to be a long day. He let a hostile tone creep into his words, knowing the answer but wanting it said aloud anyway. “Am I under oath right now?”

Mac sighed. “It would be helpful if you would consider yourself so. We are recording this conversation.”

Dan went diplomatic, nodding as if it mattered. “If I did have an opinion, I don’t see how that has anything to do with my job, or what happened. Chloe didn’t ask my opinion, and probably for a good reason. Not least of which that I don’t have a say in her dating life.” _Marcus was a raging asshole and I’m glad my ex-wife came to her senses_ _even though it broke her heart at the moment it had been happening_ _. She lowered her standards and fucked up her morals over him and I’d rather see her with Lucifer who seemed to give more of a shit about her than he ever did. There should be no sex in the evidence room._

Agent Mac frowned over his notes, oblivious to Dan's roiling thoughts.. “Did you know he was the so-called ‘Sinnerman’?”

“Not until less than a day before his death. And I’m absolutely sure Chloe wouldn’t have thought he was boyfriend material had she known his identity. Is their relationship important?”

The agent’s voice dripped ice water. “It is if she ever covered for him or destroyed evidence on his behalf.”

This time Dan hoped his expression conveyed everything on his mind. “ _No_.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. She would never do that,” _she made a personal mistake, but not a professional- okay yeah, that too, but still._

He hmmmpf’d and made a note. “So she wasn’t sleeping with her boss for favors? Maybe a promotion?”

Dan tamped down his anger. The Agent was trying to get a rise out of him, blurt out something. “The thought had never once crossed my mind. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but she wasn’t under his mind-control. She didn’t talk to me about their relationship - you should ask her this stuff.”

“She hasn’t been very open with us.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“She has been communicative about the relationship. If all goes well, she shouldn’t be in too much hot water over it, as long as she can prove she wasn’t aware of his secret criminal identity. It’s the attack itself we’re tripping up on.”

“Why not say so?”

“We need you as her character witness too. Her partner has been supportive of her when we do talk to him, but it’s been all in passing. Your testimony here, now and possibly later in court- if necessary- will be helpful in establishing that she was innocent of knowledge that Pierce was heavily involved in criminal activity.”

Dan gritted his teeth.

“It doesn’t look good for anyone here that she nearly married the boss, and that the precinct was unaware of what Pierce was up to. To top that off, you have a consultant working closely with the police for the past three years under a fake name.”

“Fake?” _It had to be._ Dan had always assumed Lucifer’s paperwork had included his real name. No one could be that sloppy, right?

“Has to be,” Mac echoed his thoughts. “Regardless, we have some questions about Pierce’s death and I’m hoping you can shed some light on them. We’re aware you weren’t present for it, but you were in contact with Detective Decker at the time of the attack.”

 _‘...Maybe I do…,_ ’ Dan rubbed his face. “Fine. What are your problems?”

“He attempted and failed to defend himself against an assailant in hand-to-hand combat, stabbed in the chest with either a short bladed weapon or curved knife. Seemed like an odd way to go, for a guy surrounded by functional sidearms and as big and strong as he was.”

“What? In the gunfight?” Dan thought back to the reports he had read. “I don’t remember a knife being found? Tons of bullets, guns,” _the attack area focused on the middle of the room._ “Debris, glass. Broken architecture,” the place had been a real mess. Ella had to take photos of the entire floor - she’d been at it for hours. When he arrived not long after the attack, Chloe had remained at the scene sitting on the stairs, between the broken stone pedestals and amid broken window glass everywhere.

She said she told Lucifer to leave. At the time, he thought it had something to do with Pierce’s death, but he preferred not to know one way or another. Vigilante justice could only end in Lucifer’s arrest. In self-defense, he could have a good shot at trial, if anyone pressed charges. Dan secretly hoped one of his henchmen were responsible for his death, but he had doubted it even then.

Dan had been ready to throat punch Lucifer for leaving her with the body of her dead ex on the floor, but Chloe insisted Dan missed him by maybe a minute.

Mac eyed him as he processed the information. After a beat, he asked, “What do you think they were shooting at, Detective?”

Dan cocked his head. “I mean, it wasn’t Chloe, her vest protected her from only one shot, not _fifty_.”

“So you heard about that?”

“She went to the hospital, came back. I saw the bruise. She didn’t say anything else to me except to say she was fine. Her vest was processed and removed from service. The main attack wasn’t on her or Pierce - he wasn’t full of holes. Well, not bullet holes,” there had not been a knife in Pierce when he got there, that he saw, but then he had not been looking for one. Still, that seems like something he would have noticed. If Lucifer removed it from the scene, well, that wasn’t good either.

Mac tapped something on a tablet. He had it angled away from Dan. “That’s the point. _No one_ there ended up full of holes. _Not a single body_ recovered at the scene had those kinds of wounds. Frankly, our task force is at a loss to find a reason to shoot at something like that. Some of the men had body bruises that made them look like they’d been hit with sandbags. In total, the injuries of the men killed or treated for bullet wounds did not add up to enough bullets. After the shot count, we’re still missing several dozen spent rounds. My best guess right now is we’re missing a body full of bullets, maybe taken by an escaped associate or two of _Sinnerman_. You weren’t aware Marcus Pierce died with a knife to the heart?”

 _That was new._ The report he had didn’t specifically mention that bullets remained unaccounted for. He wasn’t sure he remembered a detailed shot count, just cartridges, maybe a shell count. He might have incorrectly assumed that the shell count matched the bullet count. “I wasn’t there and no one told me - I’m assuming since I wasn’t supposed to be told. But I don’t see how it matters whether he was shot or stabbed. Knife wounds aren’t uncommon in our line of work - for cops or victims.”

Mac tapped in more notes, keeping his finger in the air when he stopped. “Lucifer and Sinnerman. Seems like a weird combination. Do you think he knew?” the agent spoke as if he had more information than he did. Something about it made Dan think it was a bluff. The agent was trying to set up for something else. It had to be a coincidence, even if the names were bizarre.

Dan felt his mouth flatten. “Lucifer? He claimed to. I don’t know where he got his information. We had some incidents previously where he said the Sinnerman had been involved. The man we arrested gouged his own eyes out - and obviously did not turn out to be the guy. Have you talked to Lucifer yet?”

Agent Mac sniffed shortly. “He’s been hard to get a hold of.”

 _Ha_. _He’s probably seduced Agents One through Four by now. Two men, two women. The remaining four were men._ Mac didn’t look like Lucifer’s type.

“When you next talk to him, it would be very helpful if you could let him know we’d like to have a chat before we resort to dropping in at his club? Perhaps for a health inspection? That one can usually be done pretty easily.”

 _Double ha._ “You don’t have his number?”

“He doesn’t return our calls. Our attempts to call the business line have been met with...resistance.”

 _Maze?_ Dan felt torn. He wanted the FBI out of the building and off their necks. Simply waiting for them to give up seemed unlikely. “So you didn’t get anywhere with Chloe either? His partner?”

“Her strangely off the books _partner_ added to the consultant list but oddly not payroll, by a previous Lieutenant for reasons we haven’t quite figured out. Detective Decker ceased lodging complaints a few months after they started working together. We assumed it was due to a romantic or at a minimum, physical involvement given his...reputation. That doesn’t seem to be the case.”

Dan tried very hard not to look smug. “Oh?”

“For one thing, she correctly logged paperwork every step of the way during your divorce. She also put in a notice with HR when she and the Lieutenant started dating. Nothing in there for Lucifer.”

“Oh.”

“And on top of everything else, for some reason, we’ve had trouble getting a local judge to sign off on a warrant to search Lucifer’s apartment.”

That was both entertaining and...worrisome. Anytime the LAPD felt they needed a warrant, one could be processed very quickly. The FBI should have even less trouble. _Who the hell did Lucifer have connections with exactly?_

FBI Dude read his expression correctly. “I’m glad you see the problem. So, if you have any additional information?”

Dan thought about it. He would help - he was a cop. But if Lucifer was responsible for Pierce’s death, he’d also do everything in his power to help him. “I know Chloe doesn’t share her loyalty easily. She trusts him. Lucifer may not actually be a cop, but he has instincts that help from time to time. He’s not always great at communication, but we all have our issues, right?”

“Our _issues_ are that he’s a _black hole_. No previous work history other than running the damn club. No training as a cop or even in basic security. Your other consultants on call for the precinct don’t hang around on a daily basis, and they tend to work all over the city. Not your guy. It’s like you have a consultant openly claiming to be...who he is, who appeared out of nowhere, no family, no friends, just...connections and a night club,” Mac waved a hand vaguely in the air. He had a wedding ring.

Dan considered it. “How about his dad? Lucifer complains about him constantly.”

“We’ve been told the father figure he talks about is part of the persona, not a real person.”

He lost his train of thought. “Satan has a father?”

“God as his father, apparently. ‘Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan came also among them.’”  

Dan cocked an eyebrow.

“ _Job_. When I was told the name of your consultant, I did some light research.”

Dan opened his mouth and closed it. “So the one person he has been bitching about isn’t even real? To him?”

Agent Mac shrugged. “He might be ‘real’, but we haven’t had enough clues about him to understand who he might actually be talking about.”

Dan bit his tongue. If the dad figure wasn’t a real person, then neither was Amenadiel directly related. He might get shit over it later, but he didn’t even know Amenadiel’s last name, so he didn’t volunteer it. Then there was Charlotte.

Dan pursued an alternate idea. “He can’t have appeared out of nowhere? Someone somewhere has to have claimed their uncle or cousin or whatever is the guy that runs the most successful club in downtown L.A.?” come to think of it, Dan probably could have tried that line of thought himself.

FBI shook his head. “Claimed to? Sure - in spite of or because of the name. Turned out to be true? No. ‘Morningstar’ isn’t even all that unusual of a surname, but none of those families have a legit claim to him. We checked. Do you know if he has a middle name? Or a social security number?”

Lucifer’s Social wasn’t in his paperwork either? Well, there was the accent and he never claimed to be born in America. “Wouldn’t he have a Visa? Why all the curiosity?” Dan tested the agent. “He didn’t kill anyone. Pierce did. The Lieutenant should be charged posthumously with multiple murders.”

Mac remained unfazed. “And he will be. _You_ could be charged with kidnapping. Who killed Lt. Pierce?”

“If it was Lucifer, I’d throw him a parade. If it wasn’t Lucifer, I’ll throw _that_ guy a parade. Besides, you said it was a fight; Pierce lost, he wasn’t murdered.”

“I’ll remind you that we’re being recorded.”

Dan struggled to not simply repeat himself.

Mac continued, “Not all self-defense ends in death. Lucifer could have tried to end it without killing him. Pierce had no other wounds consistent with self-defense. And why wouldn’t he own up to it if he was?”

“Ask him?”

“We’re trying to.”

“You haven’t arrested him, so you don’t have enough evidence for it.”

Agent Cheese tilted his head. “Yet. Between the lack of cameras and Decker’s unhelpful statements, we haven’t gotten far.”

“What do you expect to find in a search of his apartment anyway?”

“The knife.”

Dan’s palms grew damp. He picked up the always-present water glass and took a sip. He knew his actions might send signals to those behind the glass, but it couldn’t be helped. “Do you know what it might look like?” _Doesn’t Maze have knives? Do they know about her? Should I say anything?_

Mac peered at him. “The wound was clean and short. Both edges of the blade were curved and non-serrated. Sort of like a claw, but flat. There might be an inlay on the blade, as something on the sides tugged on his soft tissues going in and out. Your Ms. Lopez was quite thorough in her report.”

Dan tried to think if he’d seen anything like that.

“In fact, hers was dead on the money, same as ours. She’s not concealing anything.”

Dan growled. “Big Brother, much?”

Mac added, conversationally, “Normally, when you’re trying to stab someone in the heart, you have to turn a blade sideways to get between the ribs. Otherwise, it can skip right off. If you don’t know what you’re doing, especially through layers of clothes, it’s easy to miss your target. On the first try? You really have to know what you’re doing. Some first time murderers make a body look like it fell on a deli meat slicer.”

He waited for Dan’s nod of agreement, then went on. “Most go for the throat - from the front, no bones to get through. Easy kill. No digging around, a quick slash and the victim is incapacitated. A stab to the chest can miss the heart, embed in the sac that surrounds the heart or even get stuck between ribs if the blade isn’t turned flat. That short of a blade wouldn’t even reach the heart if you tried to stab up under the rib cage altogether. But you’d know _all_ that from murder scene investigations, wouldn’t you, Espinoza?”

Dan knew when to keep his mouth shut. He waited.

“This went straight through bone, slicing cleanly through ribs like a hot knife through butter.”

He inhaled. “How do you know the wound went the full length of the blade? That it wasn’t the tip of something bigger?”

“Because it stopped.”

The agent dropped all pretense of ‘Generic Agent.’ He tapped out something on the tablet. “This took skill, knowledge, experience and either the sharpest knife known to man or someone very very strong. Or maybe both. Had the blade been longer, Pierce would have had his back ribs cut too.”

He picked up his water glass. “You don’t stab someone in the chest if you’re short on time.” Mac turned the device around to face Dan, an image in blue and black on it. “Wanna see the x-rays, Detective?”

* * *

_She almost married the Sinnerman._

Both Charlotte and Pierce were suddenly, violently, gone at the same time. Plus people who could be identified as actual _Henchmen_ \- When did his life become a Bond movie? - killed or arrested, all within a day of each other, maybe others not yet rounded up. Pierce and Lucifer both had some kind of more profound mysterious history. It was all too much.

He and Chloe couldn’t even really comfort each other to any degree, even if she had wanted to talk to him. Lt. Pierce, even as a confirmed Bad Guy, had a history as someone she had felt _something_ for, before his betrayal.

Dan caught Chloe playing with a white feather at her desk. She dropped it in a drawer and slammed it shut when she noticed Dan watching her.

He didn’t ask about it. Maybe it was some weird therapy thing.

They and others were forced to attend at least one grief counseling session with a state-assigned therapist who visited the precinct. He hadn’t paid much attention to the woman on his scheduled visit. She tried to pass him her card and he had stuffed it in a pocket somewhere. He was sure she was a decent professional, he just didn’t want to talk to her.

“Are you doing okay?”

Chloe blinked, shaking herself. “Hmm?”

“You okay? How’s Lucifer?”

“I will be. He hasn’t been assigned to any new cases and the FBI doesn’t like that Lucifer doesn’t have security clearances of any kind. They want to put him through police training before he’s allowed to do anything useful,” her voice was strained.

Maybe Dan should pull some files and find Lucifers resume and paperwork himself. Their casework had been next to nil and Dan needed something interesting to occupy his time while waiting for the FBI to disperse.

He’d always wanted to know Lucifer’s real name anyway.

“Do you think this will all be over soon?”

Her eyes came back to his. “What?”

Dan gestured at the office covered in warning signs. Every file inside had been boxed up.

“...No. I don’t think it will.”

“Even though he’s...gone?”

“Is he gone? Or is he just somewhere else now?”

“I’m… pretty sure he’s _dead,_ ” he was completely sure about that, actually. Dan did not want to ask where she was when he died. If she witnessed it or not. Her feelings, despite breaking off the engagement, had to be all over the place. She and Dan have been apart several years, but he knew he’d still be heartbroken if Chloe died. He thought they were still friends.

She’d been pretty wooden to everyone since returning, not just him.

Chloe blinked several times. “Yeah, sure. No, I was there, he’s...dead. They told me he was cremated after the fact. I don’t know if there will even be a funeral. Or where they put his ashes."

He didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he picked a standard: “I’m sorry," Dan offered his hand. “You need someone to talk to?”

She met his eyes, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Maybe later? I’m still sorting things,” her other hand hovered at the handle of a drawer, then she dropped it.

* * *

Dan contemplated his coffee mug at his desk. The day had come and gone, as work does. Dregs of cold work coffee had been swirling around the bottom of his mug for the last three hours. He had made no forward progress in poking around Lucifer’s history. For a fake name, it was genius, frankly. Made it virtually impossible to uncover any other information below the surface.

Somehow the Lux building really did belong in the name of Lucifer’s company, which began and ended with the ownership of said club. The taxes on that thing were horrendous - unsurprising for the location. If asked, Dan would be lying if he said he didn’t consider quitting his job and opening a club right then and there.

Dan knew Lucifer owned more than one building, but pulling information was difficult and he didn’t want to drag the FBI into it by asking too many questions. The Lux building itself had recently been declared a historical site, so he had that to dig into too.

Dan picked up and put down his mug again. It was a gift from Trixie. “Best Dad in the Whole Universe.” Hand-painted with flowers, hearts and a white unicorn In pink and purple outlines. Somehow she’d gotten the glitter to stick on the mug, saving his desk from being covered in sparkles. Mostly. He ran his thumb over the mane of the mythic creature, wondering if she still wanted to ride a horse someday.

A pair of sleek designer shoes with red soles invaded his peripheral vision. Dan didn’t need to look up to see who it was, but he did anyway.

Lucifer stood there, hovering, his usual smile absent. For a moment, Dan thought Lucifer stared at the mug too, expecting a scathing comment on the artistry that didn’t come.

Dan pretended he had paperwork and picked up a pen. He tried to remember the last deliberate conversation they’d had. Probably him requesting Lucifer’s help with a suspect.

Their consultant didn’t particularly want to do his interrogation ‘trick’ with the FBI around. They _wanted_ to watch him do it, after hearing about it from several officers. Lucifer made himself scarce when both a suspect and FBI agents were around.

Even Dan grew more curious since Chloe insisted it wasn’t ‘a trick.’ He went back and reviewed a few interrogation tapes but the angle was never good, usually focused on the suspect. A few times, Lucifer had been briefly alone. A few of _those_ times, _something_ occurred, as they readily spilled their guts shortly after in a panicky burst of word diarrea.

Dan never gave the _technique_ much credibility before now, assuming Lucifer remaining an employee had more to do with passing his playboy free time than wanting to do actual work.

It bore looking into again, with the FBI so curious about it. Surely they had their own methods that didn’t amount to “Scare the suspect into thinking they’re talking to the literal Devil,” even if it certainly appeared to be effective.

Hell, Dan had even tried it out once, with horrifically embarrassing results. So much for improv classes. He thought he did a pretty good Lucifer too.

_Tell me, *Rhonda*, (leaning in with a tiny head tilt and holding a finger against his face with his best leer) what were you really up to last Thursday? Something wicked?_

Rhonda, after holding perfectly still for three seconds, giving him hope, burst out laughing. Thank gods Lucifer hadn’t been present for that. Thank gods he didn’t try it with the accent too. It didn’t backfire, exactly, but at least it didn’t work for any of his tittering coworkers either when they tried it on other suspects. He was, however, stuck with the nickname ‘Blue-eyed Devil’ for a few weeks. Only Lucifer himself could seem to perform his trick.

Speaking of which. “What’s up?”

Lucifer appeared to be actively biting his tongue, finally asking, “How is the offspring?”

Caught flat-footed, Dan didn’t have a quick response. Crickets had time to sing in the time his brain figured out the question. He was stuck on why he’d even be interested. “Trix? I’ve got her this coming weekend. Haven’t you seen her this week at Chloe’s?”

He visibly twitched. “I haven’t been as welcome at the Detective's residence as of late.”

That was weird. Dan thought the two had been pretty good friends. “Did something happen?”

Another long, uncomfortable pause. “It did, yes.”

Dan debated strongly over getting involved, but Chloe hadn’t said anything and he knew Trixie adored Lucifer. He assumed whatever his and Chloe’s tiff was, had to do with FBI crawling up their asses. Maybe they’d been told not to talk to each other until this was wrapped up. Not that Lucifer would obey such an order, but Chloe would. “Do you want to drop by my place Saturday? I’m sure Trixie would love to see you again.”

A bit of light touched his eyes. “I wouldn’t want to impose." For all his claims to be the Devil, he was an open book some days. He smiled a little. “Should I bring...something? That’s the social rule, is it not?”

“If it’s a nice day out, I’ll grill some burgers on the porch. Bring whatever you like on yours or maybe some potato salad. The place has been pretty empty,” he immediately winced, having forgotten and then remembering that Lucifer had a close relationship with Charlotte too.

Lucifer nodded, apparently not making the connection. He spotted an FBI agent headed their way and abruptly turned and left. Dan blinked and Lucifer was gone again as if he hadn’t even been there at all.

_What in God’s name am I getting myself into?_


	2. Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella sciences the shit out of this. Nerd references.

For reasons that didn't even make much sense to himself, Dan went back to the scene of the attack.

For equally shadowy reasons, Ella had agreed to come with him. The expansive empty window had been boarded over with plywood by work crews, as in the aftermath of a hurricane. The floor had been swept of debris after Ella had shot her photos and the body had been removed.  Boxes of art and other merchandise that had been stored here got picked up and moved elsewhere.

The lights were off, with minimal sunlight coming in from above, barely brightening the room. It felt a little like walking into a mausoleum. Strikingly cold marble floors and equally chill white surfaces stood shadowed in charcoal depths.

Initial police work done, Pierce’s body outline had been removed but Dan knew where it had been. He tasted saliva in his mouth but resisted the urge to spit on the floor where the body had slowly turned cold and discolored.

Why _hadn’t_ he just been shot? Had Chloe’s feelings tripped her up? She wasn’t the one who stabbed Pierce - Hell may hath no fury like a woman scorned, but Dan was sure she didn’t have the upper body strength to do the deed. The x-rays were explicit - a very clean cut through bone.

Had she and Lucifer been scared, surrounded by attackers? When was Chloe shot? Did Lucifer arrive on the scene with a vest too? He didn’t turn one in and getting him to even wear one took an act of God. How the Hell did Chloe get shot and not him? How the Hell did either of them make it back out alive and in one piece?

What had happened that _no one_ would talk about it?

When Dan was working a scene, he didn’t put much thought into what the victims’ last moments must have been like. In this case, he hoped Pierce had died slowly, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t true. His heart muscles had clenched around the knife blade and stopped quickly, or there would have been a lot more blood pooling around his body. Most of it had remained on his chest - where Dan had incorrectly assumed he’d been shot rather than stabbed.

Dan crouched, sliding a finger along a ragged score mark in the floor where a bullet from a substantial machine gun had laid waste. Ella thought the severe angle meant the shot came from above - but it wouldn't have had to. She shook out two pairs of purple nitrile gloves from a box in her bag, handing a set to Dan. He snapped them on efficiently.

Ella winced at the plastic crack in the otherwise utterly suppressive silence. She pulled on hers, stretching her fingers one at a time. Quietly, as if worried about ghosts, Ella clicked on a flashlight and stepped lightly through the room. “What are you looking for?” her words to him cut through the blanketing heaviness like the light in the dark.

He chuckled ruefully under his breath, his pale blue-grey eyes picking up her electric light. “Would it be cliche to say ‘answers’?” he resisted the urge to run his gloved hand through his hair. He felt like an invader, unwelcome, a bizarre feeling since walking crime scenes were a normal aspect of his job. He didn’t believe in spirits, but this would be a place for them to lurk.

She smirked. “Yeah, a little bit. You owe me for dragging me back out here.”

He looked up into the shadowy balcony ledges. “Anything you want. Except my parking space. You wrote that report yourself, right?”

Ella nodded, her nearly black irises stark against her whites, casing upwards and around. “Yeah.”

“What do you think?” it was _the_ question he didn’t want to ask Ella. He knew bringing her back here was the right choice, if he wanted real answers. Her report was detailed, thorough and missed nothing. But it was also dry - she wasn’t asked to speculate what happened. So she didn’t. She hadn’t done an inch more than the FBI asked of her. Maybe she didn’t want to.

Her spirit needed renewing and he needed answers. And he wasn’t getting them from Chloe. He damn sure wasn’t getting any from Lucifer. Pierce wasn’t all that talkative these days either. He didn’t know what Ella would come up with, but as it stood, the scene made no sense. Dan worked better in a team.

He also didn’t want to come here alone.

Pacing to the foot of the stairs, she didn’t answer right away, the light in her hands swung up along his eye line, then down to one of the broken statue things. She climbed up to the landing, her sneakers making very little noise. She walked through where Chloe must've come down the stairs and then stopped, dead centered in the square-framed window.

Dan thought he could hear her soft breathing from twenty feet away.

She looked back at him over her shoulder. “I think I needed more time to think about this.”

“Me too,” his eyes fell on the chipped floor like it might start speaking to him.

“It was bad enough Pierce turned out to be such a…a…“

“Prick?” Dan had a fair number of other terms he could use but decided against distracting her.

“What would make a guy do that? I mean, holding down the fort as a police lieutenant at the same time as running a crime ring? I guess it worked for a while, but man,” she turned in place, eyeing the top edge of the window frame. “I wonder how that even happened.”

“Right?” The soft conversation chased away the spirits in his mind. It started to feel more like the crime scene it was, less haunted. He watched her small frame move, shifting her weight, dark outlines against dark shadows. The room didn’t have any overhead lighting, normally relying on the now boarded up massive window.

“Did you know they took apart his house?” she asked, conversationally.

“No, I hadn’t heard that.”

“He had a _massive_ rock collection.”

“Okay?” maybe he was compensating for something. He did kind of remember some rocks on a ledge the night of the Heartbreak case, but he didn’t stop to look around.

“For a guy who moved around a lot and rides a bike, that seems like a pain to pack up.”

“Like a stamp collection?”

She nodded. “I’ve been wondering what they’ll find in his office, too. I guess I’ve been putting this whole thing out of my mind. We’ve had crazy cases before, sure, but we lost people this time. I don’t know if I told you that I was sorry I didn’t know Charlotte better.”

Dan flinched. “Thanks. I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

“Sure.”

Her light swept around the vertical edges of the window, and she pulled a metal probe from the bag under her shoulder. She prodded some glass bits, knocking one or two fragments loose. The frame remained twisted in places, warped from an unknown force. She turned, lighting a broken statue and stepping closer, moving down a few steps. Turning, she compared it to the opposite one that stood mirror to the first, on either side of the hand-rail. “Huh.”

Dan walked closer, trying to see what she spotted.

She took in a breath. “Dude.”

“Ella?” He couldn’t sort it out, his eyes flicking from one to the other. The whole place at ground level had been destroyed and these two things didn’t look any different to him.

She hissed. “Damn.”

Even in the low light, he’d swear she went pale. He turned on his light and flashed it back and forth across the steps. “I don’t see anything. What is it?”

“Both of these pillars are broken.”

“Yeah? I saw that in your photos.”

“Dude. They’re broken in the _same way_.”

“Yeah? So someone threw, what, something heavy at each of them, maybe they were in the way, or some gunfire shattered-”

“No. Look," she pointed at the inside facing surface of each one. “They’re broken off at the same height, at opposite angles. You know how in _Return of the Jedi_ , the Ewoks dropped logs on the Imperials? Like, a whole tree trunk on vines, right?”

Bemused, “Ella, I adore you, I really do.”

She got cross with him. “Do you remember it or not?”

“Yeah, of course.”

She pointed, gesturing sharply. “It’s like that.”

Dan commanded his brain to engage. “Ella…Ewoks did not murder Marcus Pierce.”

“Duh, but, like, a tree trunk swept through here, down the stairs. Laterally,” she pointed from the window down the steps.

Dan knew he had a stupid look on his face, but really couldn’t help it. “There’s no tree trunk in here.”

“I know _that!_ But, look, something wide and solid slammed through this middle window-” Ella climbed back up, holding her arms up and out at shoulder height. Dan felt goosebumps prick at the back of his neck as his hair rose. She started dance stepping down the stairs, her arms spread wide and up. Unintentionally or not, she clawed her free hand slightly, as if she might swoop down on him from above. She looked over the top of hands to either side. “I’m too short. Come here.”

Feeling ridiculous, he did, trotting up next to her. “Okay?”

She skipped down to the bottom and gestured for him to hold his arms up instead. “Yeah, about that height. See? The pillars broke off together, that high, _and_ too high from something to have just slid down the rails on either side. Whatever it was, it came through ballistic.”

Dan dropped his arms and turned, lighting up the plywood “But it came in through the window? From outside?”

Ella nodded confidently. “I’d stake my degree on it. The frame is bent inward, along with pieces of glass still in the frame, all along the edges,” the more she speculated, the more interested she got.

“But you didn’t find, what, uhm. Gunpowder? What do they use these days to blow things up? C4?”

Her ponytail shook with her head, back and forth. “Nothing. There were no traces of accelerants, nothing explosive. Whatever came through the window was solid, and huge. If it wasn’t a tree trunk, then it was something else with a lot of mass.”

Dan wracked his brain for anything else that could possibly do that. “Like.. uh. A meteor?”

“You’re thinking in the right direction. But no, it would have burned and shattered, and it would have left pieces behind.”

Well, at least she didn’t think the idea was stupid. “But whatever came through the window didn’t stick around, right? No sign of it when we got here the first time?” he knew that was the case, but it usually helped to ask questions.

She moved and sat on the floor in the ring of gunshots, like a fairy circle. He certainly _felt_ trapped recently, even if just in his thoughts. Her purple gloved hands stood out on the glassy white, flashlight on the floor. She chewed her lip. “So, something came through the window and it was big enough to knock the tops off pillars, land, but not crack up the floor or even leave a scuff mark. The math doesn’t work. The mass is all wrong.”

Something clicked, a little. “You said swinging.. Uh... Ewok traps, right? Did it swing back up to the other side, like a pendulum?” he peered up into the ceiling above her, but there really wasn’t anything to hang anything huge. For that matter, it still didn’t add to anything resembling _why_ such a thing was done in the first place, let alone hide it afterward. Pierce hadn’t been killed by a body blow.

She looked up past him, judging the angle of attack and adding up things in her head. “No. If it swung down from the outside, it would have come back up again, jerked back by whatever tied it up, and it would have cleared those pillars, or just hit higher and knocked them over instead of decapitating them. Also, it would've had to be fixed to something, outside. Someone would've noticed, and we would've found some sort of contraption.”

“And if it came - oh,” if it came from the inside, it wouldn’t punch through the window.

“Yeah,” her eyes unfocused a little as she looked around, letting small details sink in and process subconsciously.

“So, for sure, it burst in, what, fast?”

Her eyes flicked up again. “Yeah, _really_ fast, actually. I found glass shards all the way over by the door,” she pointed behind her.

“Sandbags?”

“What’s that?”

“The FBI guy who interviewed me said some of the guys looked like they’d been hit by sandbags, because of the whole-body bruising,” neither Lucifer nor Chloe had been bruised, that he knew of.

She squinted. “I guess, that would work,” still seated, she flashed the light up at the pillars, up the stairs, to center a faintly glowing circle against the wood covered window. At that distance, it barely made a difference in the darkness around the window. “No. Not unless they were... Shot through the window? But there’d have to be a lot of them - and I don’t know what could launch fifty-pound sandbags through the window. Why bother?”

“Well, Ewoks were pretty resourceful, maybe there’s a construction site around here that has something like that?”

“Hmmm. Yeah, they were. I wish I could see outside. So what could have come through the window and would also have been taken out again without anyone seeing it leave?”

Dan tilted his head down at her, standing outside the circle. He started to pace around it, slowly, tracking the divots. He shook his head. “Something mobile, that could have…gone out again? Something military, maybe a huge drone?” after all, the living henchmen refused to talk about it, so military equipment might make sense.

Ella tucked her legs up under her, pulling them against her chest and resting her chin on her knees. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” she did more math in her head, thinking it through. “The tops of the boxes were clean. If a drone had busted in here, it would have whipped up the debris - glass, and pieces of rock and concrete - all over the place. Anything with four huge ass fans on it would have blown around everything, kicking up even pebble-sized pieces. It’s more like it came through, then... stopped. And I guess left again. I’m guessing the FBI wouldn’t be nosing in if it was military.”

“And that’s what was shot? Here?”

“Hmmm. Yeah, had to be right? Since we’re missing a thing that came through the window, messed up some of Marcus’ guys, stood right here, got shot at, and left. Oh, and killed him too, probably.”

Dan kept pacing. With a _knife?_ “Chloe said Pierce tried to kill them when she called, right? But she said she doesn’t remember what happened. And whatever it was didn’t have a gun, or didn’t shoot back,” there were a few shots up on the walls, but it could have been fire from the floor when the attackers came down off the balcony. All the recovered bullets came from the guns of the hired muscle. “Hang on, those guys _started_ out up on the balcony, the high ground, then they came down to the floor - since that was where they were found. Why would they do that? It would have to mean whatever they were doing up there, shooting with machine guns, wasn’t effective, right?”

“Yeah.” Ella remained sitting in the middle of the remains of the cleaned-up carnage. Under his flashlight, the chipped up marble made a glinting ring around her, scintillating light all around. She sat on a cold sun. Nearly a perfect circle, but oval. No shooters at the back of the room, or at least far fewer chips out of the arc of the circle closest to the door.

 _In the middle._ “Ella, how big would you say this area is that you’re in?”

“Around five feet across,” she looked up again, frowning. “But there’s no such thing as a bullet-proof umbrella.”

“So these guys just shot in a circle for no reason? Or did they hit something in the middle? Was the FBI guy right - did someone drag out something full of bullets?”

“No...There wasn’t enough blood. Unless they shot sandbags, for some reason - that would explain the lost bullets and not enough blood. But walking sandbags makes less sense than Ewoks.”

“So, something flew in, beat up a bunch of people with a large blunt object, took dozens of bullets to the body and then left the same way? Alive? Sounds like something from my D&D days. Which were a _very_ long time ago, by the way.”

She looked up at him, her turn to look at him funny, again. “Flew in? There are no such things as dragons either, buddy. And we are _so_ going to have a talk later.”

Dan pretended not to hear that. He had his phone out, scrolling through a copy of Ella’s report. He sat down on the hard floor next to her. “There was blood here though, right?”

“Droplets, not buckets.”

He thumbed through a few more pages. He stopped and scrolled back. “What’s this about feathers?”

She nodded. “One of the art pieces in here must have gotten shot up. There were just fragments of white feathers from it. Some had blood on them. There wasn’t a lot though. I only found a few pieces of feathers tucked up under the stairs, why?”

He knew the place had been swept already, but he got back up and walked over to where the wide steps rose up out of the floor. Sitting back on his haunches and heels, he flashed the beam down and back behind the first flight. “Just there?” The stairs were pretty solid looking, but they had to be hollow underneath - that much stone would bring the floor down. Sure enough, years of dust and other debris rested up against the inside edge under the first stair. The place had a lazy janitor.

“Yeah, way under.”

He thought he saw something that caught the edge of his vision but he still couldn’t really tell what drew his attention. Everything under there looked like detritus at a second glance - but still... “Hey, toss me a probe thing.”

She fished it out of her bag, winging it to him like a small spear. He extended it, scrapping it up and under, leaning in. Poking around, he managed to hook what he thought he wanted by feel and was rewarded with a broken, dirty feather. Dry blood caked the broken shaft, but the intact thick quill reminded him of an ostrich feather, or maybe a goose. A line of dark blood filled the center of the shaft from end to end.

Dan got goosebumps again, the hairs on his arms standing up.

Chloe had a white feather at her desk, long and whole. From across the bullpen, he didn’t make out if it had blood specks on it or not, certainly, he hadn’t been looking for blood then.

Dan felt cold. “Chloe knows something.”

He plucked it carefully from the end of the probe, rotating it on the shaft. He couldn’t say why, but he would have sworn it felt warm to the touch, through the layer of the glove. This one was much worse for wear, bloodied and broken part-way. Torn, it reminded him unpleasantly of a bloody hang-nail. He stood and returned to Ella. The shaft between his gloved fingers felt thick and heavy.

“What makes you say that?” Ella dropped her bag on the floor and dug around in it for something else.

“When I got here, she already sent Lucifer away.” Dan swallowed. “He might have taken something from the scene. Maybe more than one thing.”

“Like what? Would he do that?” Ella reached for the feather, and he handed it over, reluctantly. He didn’t want to let it go. She crossed her legs under her, fingering the broken end of the shaft gently, careful to not break her glove. Her eyes traced the rough edges of the once-white vane, a memory of something prickling at the back of her brain. _“He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.”_

“What?”

“Just. Sometimes Sunday School comes back to bite me in the butt. Bits and pieces. When I first met Lucifer, it stirred up some old stuff from my childhood. My parents took us to church, and I was always a little rebellious.”

“What? You? Noooooo,” Dan managed a grin, though impatient, watching the feather.

“I talk to God once in a while, still, you know?” she pulled a small gold cross out from under her shirt. “He never talked back, but I always imagined that he heard me. The whole point of faith is that you don’t really _know_. I mean, part of me always kind of hoped that Lucifer was who he said he was. I always said the Devil got a bad rap.”

“What does that have to do with the feather?”

“I don’t really know. I mean, just _regular_ feathers wouldn’t be strong enough of a _shield_. But the blood is creepy,” she stood up, still fingering the shaft.

“More than any other blood?”

“It came _from_ the feather, Dan. This was a living feather,” she pulled a big plastic tube out of her bag.

He took it back from her. Following her lead, he squeezed the shaft, finding dried blood in the broken end. “Do feathers usually carry blood?” He felt unreasonably relieved to hold it again. He didn’t know why - he just felt better.

“Pinfeathers do, early ones.” She uncapped the tube, holding it open toward him.

“But this is huge; it can’t be a - young feather?” he, again reluctantly, dropped it in. It was evidence, after all, and no sane person wanted to keep a dirty, bloody feather. As it fell from his fingers, palpable loss washed over him. He shook it off.

Ella pulled out a second flashlight. When she clicked it on, it glowed purple. She stood, swinging it around. They'd checked for blood already - there wasn’t much in the way of even dried specks. Over the next week, the floor would be repaired and bleached, now that the police were done with the room. There hadn’t been much of a reason to sweep with a blacklight before - the blood having been contained mostly to Marcus.

Glowing specks from organic matter - both nearly invisible blood spots and _thousands_ of slivers of feather fragments - lit up the floor under her like a night at Lux. Ella frowned, stepping back. A bare scattering lit up in the middle of the circle, then expanded thickly outside the bullet chips like an illustration of the sun’s corona. The rough first cleaning by police left behind bits of life in the marble cracks, and they shone under her light.

The pattern splashed out in all directions, fading to nothing several feet away.

Dan inhaled. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

Ella looked at him. Quietly with a look up at him, she said, “Here there be dragons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me she wouldn't actually do exactly this.


	3. Heaven and Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, Just_Mad_Enough, as always!

Ella held the standard equipment tube bearing impossible evidence.

The bloody, broken feather slid, cramped and curled in its plastic confinement. The white ribs reflected the lights in the car before the electric light automatically dimmed with doors closed. The dried blood turned nearly invisible in the dusk. For a moment, they just listened to the soft scratching sounds of the stiff, bloody edges scraping the sides of the plastic tube as Ella tilted it lightly.

Dan cranked the car. He shut off the radio. It had been turned up before they got there, to some local station regurgitating popular music. Ella liked singing along to pop hits, and it had been a sweet upbeat moment before she followed him inside the building, teasing his lack of interest in Taylor Swift.

A click of the radio followed up by blanketing silence save the low rumble of the engine.

They both looked at the broken feather. Where it brushed the inside wall it left flecks of dry blood.

Ella picked at the ‘EVIDENCE’ sticker on the tube. Neither wanted to speak first, contemplating all the ways around the red sticker glaring in their faces. Above all, she was a scientist. Facts were facts, even impossible ones. The car engine hummed quietly, undisturbed by the occupants’ roiling thoughts.

She broke the silence first. “He must be hurt.”

Dan stared at the feather a moment longer, not quite able to focus on driving just yet. “Lucifer?”

“Who else?” A reasonable question for an unreasonable situation.

“We're sure it's a who and not a what?” The fog of denial swirled, an incorporeal barrier and just as useless for slings and arrows.

“It’s not from a bird, Dan.”

“Well, _I’ve_ never seen wings on him.” He took the tube from Ella’s loose fingers. “How could...something like him be hurt? By bullets? If it is Lucifer, he shouldn’t exactly be tagging along with us in dangerous situations if he can be injured, should he?” Dan surprised himself with how casually he could talk about _wings_ , as the idea began to take real root, cracking through his brain.

Ella’s huge eyes turned up to him. The words came out only with effort. “Maybe it’s because he’s here, with us,” she bit her tongue. “And because he's not-”

She couldn’t finish her thought out loud.

_In Hell._

A ton of bricks didn't cover it.

Dan was raised to go to church with his parents. He hadn’t been recently, or even that often after reaching adulthood. Chloe’s atheism had been a point of contention between them, but not enough for any blistering arguments. He never entertained the idea she’d go to Hell over it, he thought that maybe she’d come to some kind of faith eventually, but she never did. He had that moment of pity for her that she didn’t have her own source of faith, couldn’t understand what he did. He figured out too late it wasn’t a point of weakness of her character.

He figured out too late how wrong he was in his self-righteous lording of ‘faith’ like it was an all-important tool she refused to take up.

He didn’t push her to take Trixie to church or let him take her. He did take her to Sunday School for a few months at his old church. He thought she hadn’t objected overmuch, but maybe he needed to go back and revisit those memories. Trixie liked hanging out with the other kids, but their parents were a little judgmental about Chloe not being there too. More than a little, looking back on it. Members of the congregation berated him for not bringing his wife, but they did it slowly and subtly. He never saw it for what it was at the time, outright manipulation, but as concern for her immortal soul. He still _believed,_ enough for them both, he thought.

He and Chloe agreed to let Trixie decide when she was old enough. She didn’t care for it. Dan thought she believed in something though, and that was ‘good enough.’

Ella touched her cross again, the thin gold glinting in the almost dark. “Even if it wasn't from him, he was there. He saw whatever it was that came through the window.”

_Okay, that’s something I can deal with._

“But I think it _was_ him.”

_And that’s gone. Back to crazy town._

Dan thought about the phone call. “‘ _Maybe I’ve been avoiding the biggest truth,’_ that was what Chloe said when she called me, during or before the attack. You were there, remember?” he took the container from Ella. It was warm in his hands. Did it feel warm to her too?

“Yeah.”

“What do you think?” He rubbed his thumb over the clear surface. _Evidence of the Divine? Or an insane mistake taken from a shot up art piece?_ Live feathers like these don’t come this big from anything in the wild, and they weren’t fluffy ostrich feathers. The width of the vanes where it broke off, shot by bullets, had to span three inches, enough to curl inside the forensic container.

She watched Dan’s fingers. “Chloe either knows something and isn’t talking to us, or she was wrong when she said that. If Lucifer isn’t who he says he is, I don’t think she’d clam up this much to protect him. Heck, if _you_ murdered someone, she’d turn you in.”

Dan winced. “Yeah. Hey, when she was talking to Pierce, but at Lucifer’s apartment, she called him ‘Cain.’ Do you think she made that up?”

Ella hissed. “Oh God, I forgot about that. No wonder Chloe looks like she’s in a daze. And I pushed her at him.”

“Hey, we still don’t _know._ We don’t live in the _X-Files._ I hope. It's not like any of us thought that could be a real possibility. It still might not be,” except Lucifer occasionally vanished into thin air for no apparent reason. Like the time Chloe lost him on the beach.

Dan pulled out his phone, starting to text Lucifer. He started to feel a bit of delirium coming on. _Texting the Devil._ This was ridiculous, right? “We need to talk to him. If he’s not-“ Dan had trouble now too. “I mean, he _can’t_ be, right?”

Ella kept fingering her cross. The chain looked a little worn. “...right.”

He stopped before sending. “Should we just go on up? He’s usually there anyway.”

She took the feather back. “Easier to ask forgiveness than permission. He’s probably used to us just barging in on him by now.”

* * *

 

He wasn’t home.

He wasn’t anywhere. The bartender was no help, either.

The penthouse was just unoccupied, not abandoned, but the bed was made and didn’t look slept in.

Dan sent a text but didn’t get a response.

Luckily, Lucifer had an active cell phone.

They swung by the station to call in a favor.

* * *

Lucifer looked like he just threw the dark plum shirt on to make sure he wouldn’t be arrested for indecent exposure. He wouldn’t put it past the FBI guys to pull something like this to get a hold of the Club owner. The cuffs weren’t buttoned, a bare forearm visible from Dan's angle at the door. His back to the entrance, sitting in a smoky bar Dan never would have expected to find him in.

Maybe that was the point.

The set of his shoulders reminded Dan of something, and he thought uncontrollably of the day back in the spa - his mind leaping of its own accord back to that case. The scars on his otherwise aesthetically pleasing shoulders were the length of his spread fingers, had he held them up. Other than the almost eye shaped scars, his body stood unmarred by…anything else. He didn’t even have a tan line anywhere on him.

Hadn’t Chloe shot him in the leg? Dan didn't look for it then, but he remembered there being _nothing_ else but the back scars. Lucifer took his time changing in the locker room, ignoring Dan waiting impatiently. Dan had kept his eyes to himself to give his partner of the day time to change. He checked on him when he didn’t appear within a reasonable period and got an eyeful of stark naked Lucifer.

There was something magnetic about the man that made it difficult to tear his eyes away. Lucifer just gave him a wide Cheshire smile, turning easily with arms spread and eyeballing Dan in turn. Dan couldn’t even recall the exact commentary over his embarrassment but his ears burned hot to even think about it. Something to do with offering a ‘private show’ any time he wanted. Lucifer’s height gave him long limbs and a long, lean torso that went all the way down to his- _nope._

Dan remembered thinking he himself had a higher body coverage of healed over wounds than Lucifer, even with the twin scars taking up large patches.

Plus, they added to his image, looking exactly like...wing scars. Dan could almost see them overlaid there, through the shirt. Do they come out that way? Or was he serious about cutting them off before? His brain tried to put great white wings on Lucifer, but it didn’t quite work. Mostly because the Lord of Hell shouldn't actually exist. Even with his religious upbringing, eternal damnation never really clicked with him as a possible thing. And here was Satan, drinking in a bar. _A priest, a rabbi and Satan walked into a bar..._

He must have been staring, as Ella shoved him from behind through the door.

Lucifer turned from the row of half a dozen shot glasses set out in front of him. The look was neither surprised nor pleased. He regarded them with a muffled groan and turned back to his phone, tapping at some sort of brightly colored game with squares on the screen.

_The Devil plays phone games. On his phone._

The barstool had no back, so Ella took advantage of that fact, hugging Lucifer from behind. Maybe he sensed her slight hesitation. Still, Ella being Ella, she clung to him, maybe for a second longer than normal. He sighed, enduring it. After a moment, he returned it with a slight side-hug, a hand patting her shoulder and letting go quickly, leaning away from her, in automatic body language to get some space back. She took a seat, stealing one of his shots.

He resisted hugs.

Dan thought it was acting, or maybe Lucifer was a bit autistic or somewhere else on the spectrum, except he liked touching, he just didn’t like _hugging_. He liked approaching, he didn’t like _being approached._

A ruler of Hell probably didn’t get _approached_ unless it was from a position of power. At work with the LAPD, Lucifer had a _boss._  Several, if you went up the chain of command over and above the single precinct. Or none if you counted the ones he paid any real attention.

Dan pulled out the stool on his left side, ordering a beer. Something had changed. He was a little more aware of the universe at large. It pricked at him like cold rain on skin. Something generic in a bottle was set in front of him.

Ella started to touch her cross, then stopped. She downed the liquor and pushed the empty glass back in Lucifer’s soldier line of identical shot glasses.

Lucifer refilled it, then one of his empty glasses at random from a half-empty bottle. A cigarette poised in an ashtray within easy reach, but it looked like it was cooling or gone cold already. He closed the phone game. “What brings you two out here? Other than my GPS?”

Dan winced. He seemed to be doing that more often lately. “You weren’t in your apartment and Chloe didn’t know where you went.”

He hesitated in the middle of raising a shot glass to his lips. “Are you here on _her_ behest?”

“No.”

Lucifer looked at him. His hair was less coiffed than usual, a few loose black curls teasing his forehead.

“She doesn’t know we tracked you down, actually.”

“What’s the occasion then?” he didn’t look terribly interested in the answer.

Dan didn't have one ready.

Ella warmed the shot glass in her hands. “We wanted to see if you are okay.”

He sighed, took up his glass and swallowed its contents. He looked vaguely as if he’d rather drown in it. “I assume you can see I’m fine. Not a scar on me.”

Dan jerked. He didn’t mean to, but his eyes flicked up to Lucifer’s shoulders. “Did something happen to the-“ he made himself say it “-wing scars?”

Lucifer glanced his way then back to his drinks. “As a matter of fact, they’re gone too. My wings came back, and the well-earned damage vanished. I’m again as perfect as the day Dad made me.”

Dan heard the capital letter this time. He considered that the being beside him had been telling the truth.

Ella’s normally wide eyes were huge. “They really came back?”

“Without my permission. I never asked for them back, never bloody well _wanted_ them back. Maze cut them off for me the first time. Hard to do yourself.”

Dan sipped his bottle of beer. Everything in his brain screamed at him to leave. His muscles stood taut, his heart pounded. On the outside, he believed he maintained a calm appearance. He wiped his palms on his jeans.

Lucifer glanced at him again, without meeting his eyes. “I can hear your pulse you know. I'm not a roller coaster. You can leave if you want.”

“How hard...?”

“Nigh on impossible, actually. As I found out when they were forced on me. Cut them off a few times, but they kept on coming back like weeds in a garden.”

The concept wormed into his brain slowly. _Like a lizard regrowing a tail._ Every time Lucifer had ever mentioned something about his life started to come back to him. Awareness crept in of how much his life changed since _Lucifer_ appeared on their doorstep. “So you really have wings?”

“I’m not busting them out for your amusement if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dan pushed down his curiosity with an effort of supreme willpower. “We’re just worried about you.”

Lucifer checked the power level on his phone with a mild glare. “Why?”

“Because...we think you were hurt, protecting Chloe.”

Lucifer looked up, deep dark eyes finally meeting Dan’s.

Lightning shot through all his nerves, and he felt like he was going to shatter the bottle in his hand. The eyes were infinite, black as the universe and as endless. He got lost. His stomach lurched and dropped to the floor. His world fell into those eyes and drowned. He didn’t know if he could come back up for air.

He never felt more _mortal_ in his life.

And he knew.

He was having a drink. With an immortal. Who played phone games. In a bar.

Ella, beyond Lucifer, saw his face. “Dan?”

Lucifer started to look away, dragging his gaze like rubber skidding on a smooth surface. Dan grabbed Lucifer’s near bare forearm without thinking, a part of his soul begging Lucifer to never look away again. He was _hot,_  skin burning. Lightly haired flesh under his palm, pounding with life and blood and power.

Those eyes snapped back up to his. Dan became aware that Lucifer nodded. The face came back into focus. The Devil greeted Dan with a sour smile. “So. Door’s back that way if you feel the urge to bolt. However, if you faint, this floor is very unforgiving and I won’t pick you up and drape you over my shoulder.”

Ella saved him, sensing something. “The feather is yours, isn’t it?”

He snapped back to Ella, ready with a quip, no doubt, but failed when he saw the container. She had worked it out of her bag, setting it upright on end, the worse for wear EVIDENCE sticker turned around to the back. She didn't blink, unaware of what Dan experienced, but confident all the same.

He plucked up the capped tube, smoothing the sticker as he turned it around. Almost conversationally, he replied to the air with, “I thought I got them all.”

 _All?_ He didn’t think he was going to faint, but his stomach wasn’t currently cooperating, frothing with the small amount of beer he’d had, throwing acid up his throat. He tried to swallow it back down. Dan rested his hands on the wooden bar top. “I found it under the stairs.”

Lucifer spoke without concern, flatly. If there was a modicum of panic in him he buried it utterly. “Indeed? Was this the only one?”

Ella nodded.

Without asking, Lucifer popped the lid off, pulled the feather out and burnt it to nothing between his thumb and finger. The bartender glanced up, then went back to his business. A bit of ash fell in the tray with the cigarette, floating down like it was nothing miraculous, and never had been.

Ella grabbed her tube. “What-“

“That couldn’t go into the care of Police, and if you come upon any others, please destroy them. Fire is sufficient when they aren't attached.”

Dan blinked. The piece of feather had flash-burnt like a firework, leaving spots in his vision. He hadn’t let go of Lucifer’s arm, and he _felt_ the spark of power that flew into the feather, erupting it. Lucifer noticed Dan’s hand and pried it off his arm in slight annoyance. The hand that had just burned Divinity with otherworldly brilliance held Dan’s wrist for a second.

Dan met his eyes. “Why?”

Lucifer let go with a bare frown, ignoring Dan for a moment and checking on Ella. “How about you? Any burning desire to flee?”

She returned his gaze, blinking but not running. “Dude, are you okay?”

Dan grinned in spite of everything. Ella would always be Ella.

Lucifer saluted her with a shot glass and threw it back. A drop of liquor escaped the corner of his mouth, and he licked his lips. “I’m not nearly drunk enough, nor will I be.”

He looked over the half-empty bottle. “How much does it take?”

Lucifer gestured to the wall behind the bar. “Most of that.”

He wasn’t as stubborn as Chloe, but he could give her a run for her money. He tasted the name in his mouth. “Lucifer.”

An arched eyebrow greeted him. “Daniel?”

“Are you avoiding us?”

Dan thought he saw a flash of red in the reflection of the bar mirror, but then it was gone, if it was ever there.

“How I choose to spend my free time isn’t your business.”

He managed more of his beer, drinking on a dry throat. “I thought we were at least friends.”

“The Devil doesn’t have any friends.”

Dan swallowed, hard. “Yes, he does.”

Lucifer looked sharply over at Dan, nearly eye to eye on the bar stools. “You sure about that, _Douche?_ ”

Dan didn’t restrain his eye roll. “I get the feeling you only call me that because deep down, you like me.”

“Why, Detective, I apologize for making you feel that way. I’ll try to be more clear in my dislike.”

He sighed. “I’ve known you for like, three years now. Ella for nearly as long. I can’t say I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously, because it’s going to be insane to me for, well, forever.” Dan winced at his own choice of words a they came out. “But, yeah, Ella and I are your friends. As frustrating as that is for both of us sometimes.”

Ella stole another shot glass. “At least he’s got good taste in booze. This stuff is awesome.”

Lucifer looked back at Ella, who stuck her tongue out at him. He took her shot glass. “Yes. I do, and it is. How many have you had? I pour doubles.”

She leaned on the bar. “I’m fine.”

Dan sized her up. “Don’t let her have any more of those.”

“Indeed.”

Dan picked at his beer label and sat quietly for a moment. Ella pulled out her phone. Lucifer emptied three shot glasses and turned over the empties on the back ledge of the bar, well out of reach of Ella.

He glanced over a few times. Lucifer returned the earlier eye roll with a gruff, “What?”

“Devil, huh?”

“Well, that didn’t take long.”

“I mean, you tell everyone that you are.”

“Yes. Daniel, dear, are you broken? Also, ex-Devil.”

A piece of beer label came off in a plastic strip before ending in a jagged rip. He sighed. “Okay, but... _why?_ ”

“ _Matthew 13:50 - ‘and throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth_.’ Aside from all the ash and whining, Hell gets dreadfully dull after a while. Someone else can have it.”

Well, that was comforting. Except not. Biblical quotes coming out of Lucifer wasn’t helpful to his psyche. “Do you know who?”

“Never asked.”

Was heaven run this way? Did God take vacations? “So....”

Lucifer eyed him again. “Yes?”

“Why a police consultant?”

“Don’t overthink it, Daniel.”

“Has Chloe known this whole time?”

Lucifer didn’t answer.

Ella looked up from her typing. “I always thought the Devil was mistreated.”

“Oh?”

She wavered on her stool a little. “You’re here, solving crimes! How bad can you be?”

“Very, if you read most of recorded human history.” He stopped and leaned over Ella’s phone. “What are you Googling? _Me?_ "

“Hey, a bunch of people think you really are the Devil. You have a Facebook page.”

Lucifer pulled the phone over. “That’s ridicu-that isn’t even me. I should have the Detective-” he stopped, grumbling.

Dan noticed. “You mean Chloe? I’m sure she could help."

“We haven’t been communicating much.”

“She only just found out too, didn’t she? She had one of...your feathers this morning.”

Lucifer turned back to him. “This morning?”

“At work. At her desk. She hid it and I didn’t really think anything more of it.”

“I see.”

Ella played with her shot glass. “We’re missing a few dozen bullets from the attack,” she looked him over. “Did you take them with you?”

He grunted. “They were embedded in my wings. Had to.”

Ella swiveled toward him. “Are you still hurt? Can I help?”

Dan shifted on his seat. “Yeah, can we help?”

He wasn’t entirely sure what he volunteered himself for, but he would be damned if he was getting left out of it at this point.

Lucifer looked from one to the other. He sighed heavily, doing something with this shoulders in a motion Dan hadn't paid attention to before. “You _might_ be able to help. But it involves blood.”

Ella shrugged. “I deal with blood all the time.”

* * *

They relocated to Lucifer’s penthouse. Walking ahead of them, he shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it on the couch. Ella stopped and blinked.

Dan didn’t know what he did, but he must have made a noise in this throat because Lucifer stopped and looked back. “I’m not going to get blood on my clothes. If you can handle your acceptance of me, you can deal with me naked.”

Ella bit her tongue. “I’m not complaining.”

Dan coughed. “Do you have any pj’s you can risk ruining?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, fine. If it'll help your human sensitivities.”

Lucifer came back out of his closet with loose black pajama pants that may as well not have been there, slung low on his hips, tied but looking for all the world like they would drop with every step. Lucifer noted Ella’s reaction with satisfaction. To Dan, “My eyes are up here, darling.”

He blushed hard. The gently covered, clinging outlines somehow looked worse than if he’d just been naked.

Then he saw the knife. Curved and edged with some sort of design. It looked wickedly sharp - and also sort of familiar.

“Which of you is better with fine butchery?”

Ella and Dan looked at each other. Ella said, “I deal with bodies in forensics, but I’m not the autopsy girl.”

Dan wet his lip with this tongue. “I’ve cut up whole chickens, turkeys, ducks and the occasional leg of lamb,” he cringed, thinking of the biblical significance of lambs.

Lucifer held out the knife, handle first to Dan. “Looks like you've volunteered.”

“Uhm. Aren’t you worried I might hurt you with that thing?”

“That’s the idea, Daniel. I’ve still got embedded rounds I can’t reach. They might come out on their own eventually, but they might not.”

He handled the strange dagger gingerly, almost dropping it. “I mean, really hurt you?”

Lucifer arched an eyebrow. “Are you planning on it?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Then let me drink one of these bottles and we get started. There are only a half dozen bullets I couldn’t get. The skin healed over them before they could pop out themselves. Once you’re done, it will heal up again so don’t worry too much about how long a cut to make, just don’t overdo it, alright?”

With that, he picked up an amber bottle and sat on the floor, cross-legged, back to Dan.

Dan looked vaguely horrified at the blade, looking for a reason to hold off. “Do...I need to wash it? Heat sterilize it?”

“No need.”

Dan started to test the edge, then thought better of it. “What am I going to do exactly?”

Lucifer fished some white pills out of his pajamas pocket, poised to wash them down with pure liquor. He sighed as if Dan were asking strange questions. “I’ll bring my wings out and tell you where the bullets are stuck. You make with the slicing, closest to the little lumps of grating metal.”

Ella softly padded closer. “What if the bullets need to be pulled out? I think I have long tweezers in my bag.”

He twisted in place, looking up at Ella, who sat back on her heels. “Couldn’t hurt. Well, you.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Again, if you feel the urge to run, aim for the elevator, not the pool.”

Ella nodded, reaching out for a second to squeeze his shoulder. She dug in her bag, pulling out a pair of packaged and pre-sterilized tweezers, along with gloves, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls and even a drop cloth she unfolded out on the floor behind him.

Ella nodded to herself. “Do you have a decent first aid kit? I want some antiseptic and gauze too.”

He looked back at them with rolling eyes. “If you must. Bathroom, top right shelf.”

Dan stood awkwardly while Ella went to find it.

“Does uh, it hurt?”

“Foreign objects rolling around in my flesh? A bit, yes.” He threw back what looked like enough pills to literally choke a horse, followed by the booze.

Dan clenched the knife. “Holy shit, is that, are you-“

Lucifer dusted off his hands. “That should do for an hour if I’m lucky. I have a fair amount of experience with this already, Daniel. Don’t cut yourself with that.”

Ella returned with a stack of gauze and a bottle, eying Dan. “You alright?”

He felt sheepish. “I’m fine. What’s next?”

Lucifer did his shoulder twitch thing from at the bar, except this time, wings _emerged_. Not out of flesh, exactly, but they spread out and out until they rested, bouncing softly on either side of Dan and Ella.

Dan’s brain screeched to a halt. The living, breathing feathers had so much more _life_ than the ratty broken feather they found at the scene. He managed to glance at Ella, who stood stock still at his shoulder. He realized his hand moved to touch the wing closest to him, stiff and yet soft.

He stepped closer to Lucifer. He felt both suddenly protective and vulnerable, like he wouldn’t have been able to raise the knife against him had he wanted to. Lucifer’s back was open to him, lean muscled shoulders and necklines presented in either absolute trust or simple knowledge that he could defend himself if he had a need to, from these two simple humans, even one who wielded this strange blade.

Dan trailed his free hand through the soft down until he encountered the upper, bony edge. It was hot under his hand, and he could feel a fast, throbbing pulse where he gripped, even through the layers of feathers. A moment longer and his mind noted the wings floated softly with Lucifer’s breath, ever so slightly up and down. It was a small thing, but it made the situation a little more real for Dan.

Dan stood there, holding the upper edge of flesh and bone, grounding himself. He had to make an effort not to lean on it. It sunk into his brain that the scars had vanished, as Lucifer had said in the bar. He couldn’t stop himself from feeling the soft down where it erupted from his shoulders. He gripped carefully, not sure what he was feeling for, then stopped moving his hand, urged by some instinct or feeling he was in the right place.

Lucifer grunted, low and inarticulate. “If you’re done manhandling me, Daniel, I don’t have all day. The amount of time this stuff in my system has a limit. You’re right on one. You might want Ella to pull back some feathers so you don’t slice any off. I grow them back but they get itchy.”

Right. Grow back, like hair or other things he had experience with. Okay, that made this easier. Still, going from ‘what the hell came through the window?’ to ‘Now we’re going to cut into actual angel wings’ was not okay in his brain.

Dan quickly realized that, while clean, several feathers lay out of alignment and broken. He set the knife down and pushed aside a few feathers, searching for the bottom layer that thankfully did indeed turn out to be skin. Ella moved, holding them back carefully as Dan lifted. The base layer of feather supporting skin looked the same shade as Lucifer, but a smidge paler.

He stopped to snap on gloves too, but found he couldn't feel the lump as well with them. He removed one, keeping the other. The bullet lump lay on the back of the bone, hard under his thumb and forefinger. It was alarmingly close to his mid-back. Lucifer grunted when Dan wiggled it.

“Just slice over it already.” His voice slurred a little, but otherwise he didn't sound like he just swallowed a handful of pills.

Ella wiped down the patch of skin with antiseptic first anyway, dousing the knife in rubbing alcohol too. The bullet was right up against a feather shaft, and it would probably go too.

Dan twitched and brought the sharp tip to the edge of the lump. He inhaled, dragged the blade and Ella squeezed it out of his skin with gloved fingers like a disgusting zit. Blood dripped out in a short surge of liquid life, cresting around the metal. She got it free and it hit the tarp, surrounded by a few tablespoons of red that puddled on the plastic drop cloth.

Lucifer ground out a groan as the first bullet fell out in a burst of blood. In another moment, the skin stitched back together, leaving an angry red line. Ella cleaned the area of blood, revealing mostly undamaged skin. “Huh. Well, at least I can clean off the blood for you.”

The next two, on the same wing, went smoothly but one required Ella’s tweezers.The third one had to be cut twice, as it healed over too quickly. Ella was able to dart in and grab the bullet the second time with tweezers, through much grumbling. Large metal lumps dislodged with effort, both on the inside edge where they did indeed look hard to get to by the owner of said wings. On the second wing, the fourth bullet was so deep in muscle at the base of the wing that Dan couldn’t feel it, but Lucifer hissed in annoyance when he pressed around it. They left that one and went for the other two, which were as easy as the first. A quick cut below the skin and into muscle, a quick squeeze and only a little more blood on the floor. By the time they returned to number four, only a few feathers had been cut off and lay amongst the bullets and blood.

By that time, Dan had almost forgotten he might be using evidence of a murder to dig bullets out of angel wings. The hand he’d left ungloved was noticeably bloody, so he cleaned off and went back to work. At least nothing smelled infected. Directing his attention back to the last site, he shuffled his feet, hoping the FBI didn’t pick this exact moment to decide to raid the apartment.

Lucifer twisted in place to eye him darkly, causing the wing to bump against Dan. “Get on with it. We’re almost done.”

Dan changed his angle a few times, hesitating. Ella swallowed. She grabbed a skin marker to help pinpoint the best place to cut - the kind they used for blood donation markings. They worked it out to around an inch area of possible locations. Ella asked for and got permission to pluck out several feathers to make the incision area clearer. Lucifer swallowed down another bottle of booze while impatiently waiting. His breathing wasn’t exactly labored, but it wasn’t coming easy either.

The final bullet took more than one false start, which Dan deeply and immediately regretted, and not solely because of the pained cry that wrenched from Lucifer’s throat. On the third try, he got in deep enough that blood flowed out over the blade and down his back in a steady, pulsing, stream. With an effort not to piss himself, Dan held the wound open with the tip of his blade, exposing a glint of white bone and the edge of a metal bullet. Ella had some heavier duty metal forceps and plunged in. The bullet had wedged into bone, and even that had partially healed around the bullet. Ella and Dan looked over at each other, more than a little frantic as the smell of blood stung his throat and settled on his tongue.

The forceps slipped in blood. Lucifer shook. Ella grabbed her tweezers and wedged it out by holding them closed and stabbing it under the bullet like a lever. Blood ran freely down his back, staining feathers and clothing alike, soaking into his pajamas.

Dan and Ella swapped functions, she held open the wound with tweezers and Dan got the knife tip under the bullet. Sweat stood out on his neck. Lucifer screamed and the bullet flew out at...well, the speed of a bullet.

Dan pulled the knife out rapidly and the muscle began to knit together as Lucifer slumped in place, breathing hard.


	4. Find some comfort here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Return of the Mac. 
> 
> Dan helps out a feathered friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Just_Mad_Enough, a wonderful beta!

Mac’s phone buzzed. His wife texted, wanting to know if he would be coming home this week or not. It was more or less sarcastic, as the text included a photo of the dog with huge sad eyes. She was probably holding a treat over his head. “Come home this weekend at least?”

_Not if the Devil has anything to say about it._

Cathy knew who he was, what the job was, he just couldn’t talk about the details much, on the off chance this asshole taking up his time was something of actual importance to the case. She understood, she always did. What he _could_ do was to give her the name of his subject of investigation. He was met with hysterical laughter for five minutes until he admitted it wasn’t a fake name, or didn’t seem to be one, as far as he could dig up so far, which amounted to a very shallow, less than a decade deep hole.

Fake names had fake high schools, fake work histories, fake social security numbers, fake drivers license. Fake middle name, for fucks’ sake. Lucifer had none of the above.

The things he could talk to his wife about had to be known publicly, which was actually quite a bit. It’s not like the douchebag wasn’t practically a public figure, at least in L.A.

Somehow this guy survived five-plus years of local government inspection. Very lax inspection, but still. Not a single speeding ticket to his name and his driver’s license ran back absolutely squeaky clean, from the day he strolled in the DMV and obtained one. The ownership of his car was sketchy, reported stolen before being purchased legally weeks later. Or at least changing hands with proper paperwork.

The 4x6 blown up license photo lay pinned to the top of the ubiquitous manila folder. _The Devil_ tilted his head, cocky, white-teeth grinning smile, like he was _happy_ to be there. Challenging with his eyes.

_Hiding in plain sight._

Who wants to be at the DMV? For any reason? Yet there he was, smiling like the license was a Christmas present from a favorite parent.

On top of that, the bastard hadn’t aged a day - though he was wearing designer suits now, unlike at the beginning of his second life. Those all were paid for out of cash, thousands of dollars on the barrel each for bespoke suits.

Other successful nightclub owners didn’t make out this well.

Inside the folder, the DMV photo was blown up larger, along with a generous stack of other glossy prints of Lucifer’s Instagram photos. Ella, the Forensic Scientist, seemed to get a particular glee out of taking candids of him and posting them to her social media. Numerous shots of him standing around and looking bored, juggling things, until Decker engaged him. Even then, he didn’t always play ball at a crime scene, acting like he had better places to be.

As often as not, he would leave in the middle of a discussion, before the police had cleared the scene, failing to file paperwork promptly or doing so rather sloppily.

Lt. Pierce’s acceptance of these habits made him all the more suspect, in hindsight.

Unfortunately, he had exactly one of the two to talk to about it, and he had the feeling that he would gather more information while talking to the body in the morgue. Agent Mac was on the verge of getting a judge to finally sign off on a warrant for the penthouse, waiting and not wanting to walk it up the Federal ladder just yet.

The most success they had with an eye-witness was when he tracked down a woman who claimed Lucifer had ‘incredibly realistic cosplay wings’ that vanished into nothing. Her story was somewhat inadmissible as she failed a drug test, being a regular user. Supposedly she wasn’t the only one who saw them, but others who had visited his penthouse had any number of other stories involving bindings, contraptions or restraints - so costuming wasn’t really out of the realm of weird.

Eric Mac rubbed his eyes. He was officially full up on weird, but he wasn’t done here and he couldn’t go home until he was.

He wasn’t counting the various priests and street preachers as viable sources. They were all more likely to believe Lucifer was at least an emissary of the real thing. Any number of them had come forward, many blaming Lucifer personally for the death of one of their own - a Father Frank. That one was a dead end, clearly not the fault of said Devil, at least in this case. A few had organized boycotts of his club, which only resulted in more publicity, backfiring on their cause.

The one piece of the puzzle that cropped up more than once was the one that kept him here, unfortunately.

Going back through confession reports - parts dismissed outright by Decker - half a dozen suspects who had been interrogated by Lucifer claimed his eyes burned with fire. One had gone completely insane, defying all attempts to be interviewed coherently. That alone should have been enough to bear further exploration, but it fell through the cracks. No one kicked it up the system for a closer look.

Even the burning eyes thing made an interesting trick - probably an illegal one, but there was no recorded evidence of it.

The tapes they did have of him just showed off his cocky charm and not much else. Disarming and charismatic, he leaned in close to one male suspect who then nearly climbed over the table in an attempt to kiss him. Which Lucifer did not at all discourage. The man pulled him halfway out of his chair by his waistcoat. Decker at least was appropriately horrified and kicked him out of the office for the day.

No, the really interesting thing wasn’t that multiple suspects had reported glowing eyes.

It was that none of the suspects had contact with one another prior to being arrested.

The phone buzzed again. It _wasn’t_ his wife.

Agent Mac kicked up heels on the coffee table in the less than four-star hotel room he was stuck in until they called him back home to D.C. At least it had a couch and was free of bedbugs, so he could take the riveting opportunity to look at different hotel walls.

He mentally braced himself and picked it up. “Hey.”

His boss wanted him back home too, solving _useful_ cases. “Eric! Glad you're still up. I just sent you something.”

Mac didn't like his boss. “The time difference runs the other way, Jay. What is it?”

“You’re going to hate it.”

“I already do,” Mac flipped open his laptop, tabbing to work email. The photo was of a nearly pristine blue sky - or it would have been blue if the image had been in color. It was from either a drone or excellent surveillance camera, one of the two. Shot from outside a building with which he wasn’t familiar, but looked to be in L.A. A blurry white object smeared across a section of background, between buildings.

He sighed audibly. “Why am I looking at an image with a massive artefact in it?”

The absolute glee in his boss’ voice was unmistakable. “It’s _not_ an artefact.”

Okay, granted, that was a good reason to be interested, provided it that anything to do with _anything_. He might hate his boss but he didn’t usually end up on wild goose chases because of him. The government tended to frown on that sort of resource waste, despite public opinion to the contrary. Agent Mac shuffled the phone to thumb on the speaker and blew up the image, cropping to the white shape that changed slightly between shots. “Looks like one.”

“I was hoping you could sharpen it. There’s a series of images, keep scrolling.”

“Sharpen yes, zoom, no. Unless these aren’t the highest resolution images you have.”

He found and layered the five images, cropping the artefact out of three as it moved from one section to the other. It was clearly rocketing through the frames, only visible in those three and not the other two, the last of which showed that the building suffered damage because of it. “ _Why_ am I looking at this anyway?”

The gruff voice practically cackled. “That’s the building Lieutenant Marcus Pierce died in.”

Mac sat up quickly, refocusing his brain and glad he hadn’t broken into his mini-bar tonight. “Give me a second. What time frame is this spread over?”

“Those are _frames_. Three of them out of the whole video have the ‘artefact.’ We’re lucky it wasn’t recording at 12 fps but at 30.”

He sucked his cheek, squinting at the shape as if that would help. The white thing was more or less triangular with the mid-day sun glinting off the - whatever it was. At three frames visibility out of 30 fps, it wasn’t fast enough to be a missile or an RPG, but it _was_ fast. His boss sent the bracketing frames, the first that showed an intact window, and the last showing a very much not intact one. No smoke though, Jay would have sent that along  had there been more to the clip.

The shape flattened vertically in the last frame it was visible in, maybe slowing down? It was still blowing out the camera on the white end, but it was a different shape from the first. It moved from triangular to almost an upright pancake before entering the building through the window. It had to have been hurled, uncontrolled.

Jay still had that tone in his voice, like he was holding a cookie jar and about to slam the lid down on it. “You there?”

Mac found a pen to chew on. “Yeah. Got any after shots? Did it show up again?”

“See, now you’re interested. I told you.”

He _really_ hated his boss. “So?”

“So, nothing. That’s all we have. One of our analysts found it on a UFO sighting channel on YouTube. But _that’s_ our building-”

Eric finished the thought, just to annoy him, throwing in the exact wording he knew that his boss would use. “And it’s _not_ little green men.”

A grumble greeted him on the other end. “Can you do anything with that?”

The pen turned in his mouth. “Well, if this is the best your guys can do with it, I don’t know what tricks might work better for me. I’m sure they already color inverted it. Your guy is probably trying to track down the user to get the original video since those UFO crazies like to post stuff that is a little blurry to get more views. If we’re really lucky, the original has a higher frame rate, but I doubt we're that lucky.”

“Yeah, she’s already doing that - shouldn’t take long.”

“You already know nothing was found at the scene. What is this anyway, a mattress? It looks like it’s flipping.”

“It does, doesn’t it? It may not be a murder weapon, but it’s missing evidence. Or it is if the crazy user that uploaded it didn’t make the whole thing up - someone saw the window was broken and made up a visual story for it.”

Mac counted to three. “But?”

“Steph bet her favorite cat that it’s real.”

Mac sent the cropped and uncropped images to his printer. “I take it you want me to look into this tonight and make me give up my beauty sleep?”

“Right in one. Try the Lopez girl again, maybe you can run into her out on the town.”

“If this is a conspiracy, it’s going to wipe out half the precinct. She and Decker were close, I get the impression they’re protecting each other somehow. Neither strikes me as a murderer, but I’ve seen weirder cases of domestic violence. Maybe not with the window, mind you.”

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

Mac brought up his lo-jack tracking app, not hugely surprised to see the results. “Well, everyone but Decker seems to have gone to the damn club, so I guess that’s where I’ll be headed.”

Jay chuckled. “Well, at least you get to have some fun.”

“I’m going to stick out like - an FBI agent in a downtown L.A. club. I haven’t _enjoyed_ being in a club in 15 years. Luckily I packed my earplugs. I’m putting in overtime for this.”

“I have to approve that, you know. Try not to spend all of your per diem on hookers and blow, alright?”

“Sure, they don't give receipts for those sorts of things anyway. Bye, Jay. I'll text if anything pops up.”

* * *

Ella cleaned up the bloody mess on the floor, picking up the drop cloth by the corners and bundling it up. She sighed sadly over the scattered newly cut feathers lying in amidst the blood, but didn't pick them out of the mess.

Dan was the stronger of the two, so it fell on him to handle his coworker when it became clear Lucifer wasn't of the mind to move himself. The wings were still out, making the effort more complicated. Dan checked the most recent wound, which was still raw and mostly open, a number of feathers around it absent and leaving an ugly bare patch of puckered skin that reminded him unfailingly of raw chicken. Lucifer didn't react to his careful touches, only breathing and staring at a wall.

Wrapping an arm carefully well below the more injured wing joint and trying not to crush additional feathers, Dan braced him against his own body. Hot blood immediately soaked into the arm of his shirt, making him question any number of recent life choices.

With gritted teeth, he hauled up the taller man, pulling one of Lucifer's arms over his shoulder to keep him upright. Dan might have been able to outright bridal carry him under normal circumstances, but the wings weren't helping anything and added quite a bit of weight. He tried not to think too hard about angel wings having more mass when visible versus not, since he would have bet anything Lucifer had an extra 80 pounds of dead weight dangling off him this way, if not more.

“Okay, buddy, work with me a little here,” Dan gripped his wrist as Lucifer remained mostly limp. Lucifer didn't _quite_ walk with him, but Dan did manage to get him face down in the bed on navy silk sheets with a whump.

Breathing harder than he liked, he sat there on the edge of the mattress. Ella appeared with wrung out damp washcloths. For a few minutes, no one said anything to the others. She crawled up the other side, picking up blood off his back where she could. Reaching out, she stroked the back of his head softly. He jerked, and groaned, making the first real sound since the chilling scream.

She pulled back, twitchy and hoping he was okay.

The Devil sighed. “If I'd known this was all it would take to get you two in bed with me I'd have done it months ago.”

Ella chuckled. “Don't get any ideas-"

“Way, _way_ too late to not have ideas I'm afraid, darling. I bet you're loud in bed, my dear forensic scientist.”

She playfully rolled her eyes at Dan over his back. “I have a ton of brothers. If any of them thought I wasn't a perfect pure virgin, they'd rip the nuts off every man I ever dated. I'm not that loud out of necessity.”

Dan mirrored Ella, wiping down Lucifer's back where the waterfall of blood had gushed from the deep cut close to skin. He followed it down to the edge of his PJs, hesitating. “Can you move? These, uh, should come off.”

Lucifer smirked. “Told you we could have skipped it.” He wiggled his hips. “I'm not quite up to moving my arms easily, can you manage, Daniel?”

Ella blushed. “I'll get a sheet.”

_Really, Ella? Abandoning me in my time of need?_

“Fine,” Dan pinched the fabric on either side of Lucifer's hips.

“They're drawstring, not elastic.”

“Are you kidding me?” _God. Fuck. Whatever._ Dan ignored the lines of skin under him and blindly reached under Lucifer for the tie.

“Mmmmm. A little lower.”

“Seriously?”

“Well yes, if you need me to spell it out for you, my wedding tackle is below my-"

Ella flapped out a sheet loudly, eyeing Dan speculatively. “I'd offer to leave you two alone, but I really want to keep an eye on those wounds.”

Dan blushed, finding and yanking the tie loose with a jerk. Lucifer helpfully arched up his hips. The pants slid off easier than Dan expected and he almost fell off the bed. Almost.

Ella dropped the sheet over Lucifer, as professionally as possible. She lifted his wing ends out from under the thin bedding so they wouldn't be trapped, or at least not awkwardly placed. “Do you need anything? Bandages?”

Lucifer tucked his arms under his pillow. The wings twitched. “I'll be able to put them up again soon. How bad is it?”

Dan wrinkled his nose, dropped the pants in the bathroom and came back. “Nothing is actively bleeding right now, but the deep cut looks nasty. You sure it shouldn't be covered?”

Lucifers nostrils flared. “You ever try removing medical adhesive from feathers?”

He had not. He sat again gingerly to inspect it anyway, thumbing aside some down fluff away from the cut. Lucifer hissed.

“Sorry. You okay?”

“Will be,” his dark eyes roved over Dan. “Perhaps you should remove your own bloody clothes and keep me company. I'm sure I'll feel _much_ better for it, if you're feeling badly about causing me pain.”

Dan looked over his sleeve. The blood had started drying, stiffening the fabric and cooling on his skin. Lucifer would probably let him use the shower too.

Lucifer turned up his version of being helpful. “It'll have to be destroyed anyway. Evidence of the divine and all. Hmmm. Better lose the trousers too, just to be safe.”

Ella snickered.

He purred at her. “You're invited too, of course, darling. The three of us could make an evening of it. A little ‘Get well Devil party,’ what do you say?”

She flushed. “I need to get home and feed my cats,” she shifted, delaying leaving his side. “I can bring you a drink though? Are you going to be okay? Is someone out there looking to shoot you again?”

Turning back to Dan, he smiled with his teeth. “Well, now that you mention it, I could probably use some nice, strong, police protection,” he lifted his eyebrows at Dan, looking oh-so-innocent. Except totally not.

He sighed. “Be serious, would you? We don't want you to get hurt again,” he grumbled at his shirt and started to unbutton it. He really didn’t want to wear a blood-soaked shirt anyway. He had a plain white tee under the button up, and it had escaped almost unscathed. He tried to subtly check his jeans without drawing more attention from perpetually horny celestial. “You got anything that’ll fit me?”

“Why, Daniel, I most definitely have something that will _fit."_

 _Yup. He was feeling better, alright. Why me?_ “Nevermind. Ella, do you think you could do me a huge favor?”

“I'll need the keys to your place. Need anything else?”

He fished out his keys, thankful they weren't bloody. “My sanity, but you won't find that at my place either,” to Lucifer, “I guess you wouldn't just trust me to burn the pants at home?”

“Not particularly, no.”

Ella placed the cleaned knife on the bar and handed him a full bottle of something amber.

Lucifer remained face down, shifting his weight, trying to get comfortable.

“Problem?”

He was rewarded with a grumpy look. “Wounds itch when they heal. I heal fast, thus, very itchy. I have some feathers out of alignment, not to mention, oh, I don't know, any number of broken shafts from being _shot._ I'll be right as rain by the morning. Mind you I haven't been quite this damaged in a long time.”

“You seemed more companionable a second ago.”

“Well, you've rejected my advances. I assume some nicely distracting sex is off the table. Which I might add would be nicely distracting for you too. All I've got left is entertaining myself and Devilish sarcasm.”

Dan sighed and sat on the bed again.

Lucifer perked up.

Dan thought about his empty bed back in the apartment. He found a long wavy blonde hair on it a few nights ago while changing the sheets. He didn’t sleep well that night, never mind before or since. “I'm just keeping you company. Between _this_ and Charlotte, Chloe and Pierce, being alone with my thoughts isn't the best place for me right now.”

The wings stretched a little. Lucifer hissed and stopped moving them. He took a swig from the bottle of golden liquid, awkwardly due to his position. He offered it to Dan.

He sniffed it, took a hesitant sip. It slid down his throat like water. “What is this stuff?”

Lucifer crossed his arms under his chest, arching an eyebrow. “Better than you’ve had.”

“Everything in this apartment is better than I have.”

“Hmmmm. Including me.”

Dan set the bottle down. “No, Charlotte was better, and I don’t even need a first-hand comparison.”

He shifted. “Well, you do have a shot at seeing her again, if you stay on the straight and narrow, no pun intended there.”

He forgot to breathe. “What do you mean?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Once you shuffle off your mortal coil. Pining for the fjords. Run down the curtain and join the bleeding choir invisible. Become an ex-Daniel.”

“Heaven?”

He snorted into his pillow. “No, the corner liquor store.”

 _Right. Heaven is a real thing._ “She’s...really there?” Hope and warmth rushed through him.

“I believe so. Amenadiel hasn’t returned, and I assume that’s where he took her. I don’t know what happened beyond that.”

“Took her? Her body-”

“Right, Sunday school lesson time. Your soul isn’t your body.” He took the bottle back, taking a long pull. He offered another drink. Lucifer pitched his voice, picking a quotation Dan remembered well and delivering it with bitterness. “ _O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law._ ”

“Corinthians?”

“You should read the original sometime. At least it was art when it’s not bastardized by King James. Also an arsehole. Pretty much all royalty were, historically, arseholes.”

_Lucifer knew King James. Because of course he did. I am not going to ask if he’s in Hell. I am not -_

“Went to Hell, too. Dad wasn’t fond of him messing with his _Holy Word._  Finally got some established canon as it were, then Jamie went and mucked it all up with reams of fan fiction.”

_Arrrgg._

“Seems like Dad could have skipped the whole walking-the-earth thing entirely, doesn’t it? He always did love a good _test._  Claims to love all of you miserable creatures, yet practically pre-dooms you to Hell depending on where you end up being born. Some of you barely have a chance at all.”

Dan dragged up the rest of the passage from dusty memory, if only to change tracks. “First Corinthians, right? _But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”_ He immediately regretted remembering how it went.

“Oh, do _not_ get me started on ‘Christ.’ Hardly his fault they built a cult after him, poor man. All humanities sins cleansed through the death of one miserable human, yet for some reason, you bastards keep ending up in my basement. Michael could literally swoop down and clear the whole thing up, yet _free will_ is more important than keeping his precious humans out of Hell.”

Dan looked through his glass. “Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t like us much.”

“You lot are entertaining, don’t get me wrong. Rarely a dull day. Oh, and the sex is fun too. And no, you aren’t going to Hell just for bedding each other, unless you feel guilty about it, so please don’t.”

“Guilt? That’s it?” _Charlotte was still married, but separated - does that count? Does God care about marriage?_ He and Chloe have been legally divorced for over a year now. He wasn’t going to ask about her and Lucifer, at least not right now. She didn’t have a great track record for boyfriends, husbands or fiance’s.

“Well, that and murder, child abuse, etc. You don’t _have_ to feel bad about it, but it’s not a ‘get out of hell free’ card either if you don’t.”

The loss of Charlotte hadn’t hit him yet. Maybe it would in the next few days or weeks. He just wasn’t processing it, trying not to think about the upcoming funeral. Maybe the timing for finding all this out will end up being a good thing, as long as he could get a direct answer out of Lucifer.

He blinked. Does _this_ screw with his free will? God threw _King James_ into Hell, what chance did he have?

He found a stray glass next to the bed and poured himself a finger or two. His nerves twitched and he could probably get Ella to drive him home when she came back. He drank, shaky. “Her funeral is tomorrow. I don’t know if I’m even welcome. Her family never really cared for me - they weren’t very happy with the almost-cuckolding. She didn’t see it that way, but they did. They thought that her marriage falling apart was _my_ fault.”

“Hardly your doing. The original Charlotte Richards died before you ever knew her."

He choked on his drink. “What?”

“She came back, her soul was stuck in Hell for a time, but when Mum vacated the body, it seems Dad gave her soul a second chance to change her life. Very, very few do. It was sheer circumstance Mum even ended up in Charlotte. Really, you’re quite lucky to have had any time at all together. The odds are, well, astronomical."

Dan Espinoza had no idea how to process any of that. He changed his mind about wanting direct answers.

Oblivious, Lucifer continued. “Funerals. Waste of time. The soul is long gone and it’s bloody depressing for everyone involved. I hear the trend these days is an open display of the petrified dead accompanied by a _buffet_ of finger foods.Skip it.”

Dan gritted his teeth, shooting the drink quickly. “It’s closure. People need to mourn, to share. The kid that's old enough to know would probably want me to be there.”

Lucifer sighed into his pillow. A black eye turned up to him. “It’s temporary. Heaven and Hell are eternal. Make it heaven, and in a million years you won’t even remember your time on earth with her. If you're very lucky, you'll see thousands-generations-removed grandchildren from Beatrice in that time.”

 _A million years??_ A lifetime didn’t feel like enough time with Charlotte, but a million? Trixie wasn't even old enough for a _boyfriend._

The wings fluffed, drawing his attention. Lucifer's back rose and fell, the wings following his motions with soft respiration. The sheet rested lightly over his low hips, looking very human despite the wings. _Did he even need to breathe?_

“How much danger were you in anyway? Protecting Chloe?”

“If Cain had had men with rocket launchers, I might have been in real trouble. My wings are stronger than my body, or the bullets would have gone right through anything not bone. Frankly, I was fortunate no men were behind us or one might have shot me in the head.”

Dan sat back against the headboard, pulling his legs up so he wouldn’t bump the wing. He turned the glass in his hand, looking through it and starting to feel a hair buzzed from it. “You love her? Chloe?”

“What’s not to love?” He turned away.

And there it was. Dan knew infinite sadness when he saw it. He missed Chloe, but accepted he screwed up. Lucifer somehow screwed up too. “She was going to marry…Cain? Did she know?”

Another long pause. “No.”

“She didn’t know anything until the attack? Did she?” Feeling more and more like a fish out of water, Dan couldn’t stop looking at the wings. How could she walk away from that? He refilled his glass, taking another sip, enjoying the smooth liquid that had an actual flavor.

“Abandon this line of questioning or find something more useful to do with your mouth. I’m not in the mood for mundane human inquiries.” He shifted his arms, turning away.

The booze set in. A feather by his knee stuck out at an odd angle from the rest. Dan reached out and straightened it, pulling it into alignment with the others. The motion dragged a small groan from Lucifer that sounded somewhere between pain and pleasure. He didn't move otherwise.

Dan ignored his internal warning system in favor of curiosity. Scanning, he found another one poking up out of the smooth sheet of wing, and leaned up to pull it. It gave a little sound, like popping a knuckle, riding into place with just a little pull and guidance. The muffled noise that escaped Lucifer this time bordered much closer to pleasure, he thought. He couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with himself, digging up a little more courage and searching for more feathers out of line, like a weekend puzzle to be done. He shot the rest of his drink, riding a low, pleasant warmth.

He sensed Lucifer’s curious attention on him, but he didn’t stop him.

Feeling a little bit OCD about it, Dan looked along the smaller upper edge feathers, gripping here and there and working along the back of the wing. Wiping his hands along and under the front bony edge, Lucifer seemed to have gotten those himself. He sensed more than heard something that sounded suspiciously like purring.

Dan smoothed his fingers through and over beautiful white feathers, nudging some into place without doing much. He found a larger one that had been broken, the end hanging on by a thread. He bit his tongue, wondering what to do with it.

“Yank it out.”

“Are you-”

Lucifer growled.

He gripped the shaft and yanked as hard as he dared. Which wasn’t hard enough. Dan felt a rush of panic and pulled harder, and it came out with a pop. The response was immediate and satisfied, tension melting off Lucifer’s shoulders. Dan dropped it on the floor and kept combing.

With verbal reassurance, he plucked two more feathers, getting a grunt and sigh each time. Sweating lightly, Dan helped himself to another shot or two of the booze, then got up and plopped down on the other side of the bed, he paused before touching it though, not drunk enough to not suddenly remember where he was.

Lucifer’s voice was throaty and deep. “This is useful. You may continue.”

There was an undercurrent in the tone he wasn’t used to hearing from a man, so he ignored it again, digging in and repeating the process. On the fourth broken feather, he didn’t even hesitate, extracting it with something resembling a practiced move, angling it better than the first three to get it out with minimal pull on the skin.

He felt better about everything than he had in days. He had a task to perform, it was useful, and got immediate results every time he performed it successfully. He got lost in the nature of it, tracking through feathers and aligning them, even ones just barely out of true. It was a little like that time his grandmother taught him to knit as a bored teen one day. Short sets of actions that resulted in, well, not a scarf in this case, obviously, but results nonetheless.

He relaxed into the rhythm of it, failing to notice Lucifer sleepily burrowing further into the bed, his weight pushing a downward valley into the middle of the mattress.

Vanes and shafts flexed under his steady fingers. Here and there he smoothed feathers so the ribs stuck together properly. A bit of oil began to build up on his palms and between his fingers but it was pleasant rather than clingy. It stayed warm with the work, and the feathers ‘liked’ the self-oiling, developing a light, healthy sheen where he worked over them.

Dan spotted one last broken shaft, technically in alignment where it sprouted but bent and crimped twice near the base in a way that made it look right and straight but felt _wrong_. Imagery of a small splinter under the edge of a fingernail leapt to his mind. He winced sympathetically, unsure if his mind invented it or it was really that bad for Lucifer. He thought a more accurate image might be dozens of hangnails, but that didn’t help his brain either.

He had to slide his knees up under the front edge to get at it, pressing firmly on the sheet of feathers to brace himself. It was the largest one yet, and would take a good solid yank. His fingers worked in and around the base, testing his oiled-fingered grip before giving it a pull. It wanted to go and he could almost feel buzzing feedback through his fingertips at the _wrongness_ and it needing to be free. It slid out in his fist, satisfying in the removal, like an explosive, worrying pimple on the surface of the skin, bursting with a light touch. “Ah ha!”

And without a fraction of warning, Dan's world became hard, naked angel scooping him close and pulling him under a canopy of brilliant white.


	5. Before the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't go as planned.

“HEY!”

Dan wasn’t sure exactly what he was objecting to.

Lucifer’s face was an inch above his, halting, curious. Somewhere between non-judgemental and definitely judgemental.

The rest of his body was much, much closer.

His heart pounded in his throat.

Dan wanted to kiss him. It would be so easy. So simple. He could just lie here and be lost. Be consumed. He knew Lucifer’s game. Chloe wasn’t the only one who had walked in on one of Lucifer’s wild nights, after all.

Despite the protest, his arms had wrapped around a slender waist without instruction from his brain.  

He felt _good._

Lucifer shifted his pressing weight to drive that particular point home. The wings cupped over them, casting no shadows against the bedroom lights, being a low source of light themselves. The Devil cocked his head. “Detective?”

 _Detective._ His name for Chloe. He swallowed. “I can’t.”

“Well, it’s not as though I _expect_ reciprocation…Still, no one gets this far and _then_ turns me down. Curious.”

Dan sighed; that sealed it for him. He let go, sliding out from under him, propping up on his elbows. “Thanks, but I’m not interested in meaningless sex.” He winced a little, remembering it was the phrase used over and over again down at the precinct when so many ex-lovers came in to be interviewed.

Lucifer pushed up, sat back on his knees. “Hmm. Are you sure about that?” Dark eyes raked him unashamed, disrobing him with his eyes if not his hands.

Dan couldn’t help but be drawn to the vision of him, heat rising to his face. He heard himself make a noise in his throat, frozen.

The Devil took it as a possible opening, leaning to cup his face.

He swallowed again. _God, stop swallowing._ He wanted to give in.

“Call it repayment for earlier? We could both use a good shag, don’t you think?”

Dan could very well believe no one had ever turned him down once crossing the threshold, let alone facing down those _eyes_. In bed.

Warm breath fell on his face, close. Once Lucifer kissed him, he’d be done for.

Lucifer’s phone rang.

He turned toward it, away, then back again, grabbing it off the nightstand. “Detective?”

Dan heard Chloe’s voice, but not the words. Lucifer growled at whatever she said, followed with. “You’re certain?”

He itched to insert himself.

“Of course, I’ll be there right away.”

Dan bit his lip. He heard something from Chloe that sounded an awful lot like “No.”

Lucifer slid to the edge of his bed, pausing with feet on the floor. His face in profile was unreadable, a worrying sign of a person who tended to wear their expression openly. Dan had to duck out of the way of his wings as they swung past. “How can I be of service?”

The voice was quiet.

Lucifer turned to Dan, looking stressed. “I see. You’re certain you’re safe?”

“What?”

He got a look shot at him. “No, just Daniel, sharing my concern.”

_Just Daniel._

He had enough, sliding off the bed. It’s not like he wanted to stay anyway, right?

“Oh, don’t be stuffy! You don’t even have your change of clothes yet. No, Detective, not you, I was talking to Daniel. He did me a favor. No, not that kind of favor, but I was working on that... Oh? I always thought so. Hmm?” He held the phone away from his face a bit. “Alright, I don’t see how that helps your situation, but no, I don’t think he’s up for it. He’s indecisive like that…Yes, that was a crack over your divorce.”

Ella appeared out of the elevator at that moment, duffle bag slung over her shoulder. “Hey.. oh. Still naked,” her eyes flicked to Dan for something safe to rest on.

“No, Daniel's clothes just arrived. Well, no, not _now,_ but the night is young.” He frowned at whatever she replied with. “Alright...I...I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dan’s annoyance warred with wanting to know about the ‘safe’ thing. Safe won. “Is Chloe okay?”

Lucifer huffed, lying back down on the bed on his stomach, flexing his wings again a little. “Her apartment was broken into,” he paused. “The police are on their way.”

“What?! Is she okay?”

“Yes, she and the spawn got home after the fact. There's no sign of the miscreant who tossed the place.” He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Do you need to leave?”

Lucifer stood, picking up a robe hanging off a chair. Dan blinked. The silk swung over his shoulders and settled into place. _Through_ the wings. His brain broke a little again. “No. She says there's nothing I could do. I'm certain she’s wrong, but I won't turn up against her wishes. The _police_ are on their way to...to...do whatever.”

“I could go check on her. I mean, I'm not on call, but I could go,” s _he called you._

Ella whipped out her phone. “I'll text my buddies and see what they know, alright? Unless you want to do that, Dan?”

“No, I'll go get changed. Can I…?”

“Plenty of towels in the warming closet.” He smiled again. “Unless you want some assistance?”

Dan thought it was more to needle him than a real offer. His lizard brain happily supplied imagery. Dan coughed. “I'm fine, thanks,” _warming closet?_

Hot towels waited for him. He hesitated only a moment at the glass-walled shower. It was _huge_. Anyone could stick their head in and see him.

 _Screw it_.

* * *

 

Mac got the call on the way to the club. He changed directions, booking it to Deckers’ place instead.

The police let him through. He found Decker stone-faced, holding her daughter’s hand. She shifted her weight on her feet, talking to someone impatiently. An officer on the night shift he didn't know, a woman with her hair up and in a crisp uniform. They seemed to know each other. In any case, the brown-haired officer gave him a cold stare at his approach.

He sighed internally. “Good evening, officer, Detective. Are you alright? Your partner coming?”

Decker looked at him. “No. I told him he wasn't needed,” her face told him she knew he would show up, or suspected as much. _She really doesn't want me to talk to him, huh?_

“Are you and your daughter okay? Beatrice, right? What happened?”

She nodded, pulling a thread of loose hair behind her ear. “We came home, the door was busted open, and my bedroom drawers had been gone through. Look, I don't know why you came by…”

“Heard there was a problem. Might be related to Lt. Pierce. I don't know how to ask nicely but, did he keep stuff at your place, when you were dating?”

She flinched. “Yeah, he did. I put his stuff in a box, though, by the back...shit,” she'd turned, pointing at said back door. There was no box. “I didn't even notice.”

“That's okay, having your stuff pawed through sucks. Did they take anything else?”

“Uhm. Just this shiny rock that...Pierce gave me as a gift. It was in my bathroom. I'd almost forgotten about it. Said there was a story behind it he was going to tell me someday. It’s silly."

“The Lieutenant had a huge collection at home. We're still going through them. Did he say anything about them?”

She shrugged. “He pointed out the one he started with. It looked like the most ordinary stone ever, kinda big.”

“Okay, it probably doesn't matter, but could you point out which one it is, tomorrow? This guy has a hell of a hidden past, anything might be helpful.”

She blew out air. “Yeah, sure.”

The girl looked annoyed. “I didn't like him. I'm glad he's gone.”

Eric threw a questioning look at Decker. She shook her head. “Well, he's not coming back, Beatrice.”

She smiled. “Call me Trixie.”

“Trixie. We’ll find these guys, okay?”

“Mom always catches the bad guys.”

Detective Decker sighed, running her free hand through her daughter's hair. “One way or another.” Her mask slipped for a second, torn.

Mac filed that away for later.

She patted her kid on the head. “He's right, Marcus won't be back, ever again. Monkey, do you mind hanging out with Claire for a minute so I can talk to the nice Agent?”

She squinted at Mac, sizing him up. “Don't bother mom too much. She's got special friends,” Trixie found the dark-haired woman he saw first, reaching over and taking her hand.

“Call me Eric.”

“Is that your real name?”

He tried smiling a little. “My wife thinks it is.”

She didn't laugh but she didn't give him her Eyebrow of Doom either. “You got kids?”

“Yeah, two boys. And a dog. It's a houseful.”

She nodded. “No offense, but I wouldn't be too upset if you don't catch his killer. If you feel like heading back home to D.C..”

“It's not up to me. It might have been one of his guys. Hopefully, it was. Of the men we arrested, none had his blood on their clothing.”

She stood with her arms crossed, staring out the window at the police lights. He glanced out but didn't see anything. “You expecting someone?”

“I...no.”

“You have a roommate, right?”

She squinted at him coldly.

“One of your coworkers mentioned it, is all. You don’t think she did this, right?”

“Not a roommate anymore. She’s. Complicated,” She smiled to herself, but it was bitter. “As Hell.”

Mac cocked his head. “Gone a few days…?”

“Since the murder,” Her lip twitched. “It wasn't her.”

“Unless she’s 6’3", it's unlikely anyway.”

She definitely twitched. “Why's that?”

He watched her, responding casually. “Height and angle of the knife, where and how it went in. Very likely a tall, strong male.”

She licked her lips. “Okay.”

On a whim, he pulled out an image with the artefact from the folder in his bag. “I got this today. Does this look like anything to you?” He watched her rather than the image.

She frowned, shaking her head. “Does it mean something? Is that a sun glare?”

 _Damn_. “No, we're still looking into it.”

“I'll look again tomorrow. I'm kind of beat.”

“Okay, thanks anyway.”

* * *

Mac had nearly made it back to his car when a dark figure melted out of the shadows to face him. She - very much a _she_ \- stalked toward him on heels, her hands free at her sides, the streetlights silhouetting her figure.

He froze. “Hello”

For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw a scar on her face, but she brushed her curly hair back and it wasn’t there anymore. Maybe it was just her highlights. “You one of the guys harassing my friend?” her voice promised threat, though the question was casually delivered.

“No. You know Detective Decker?”

She tilted her head. “I do. Who are you?”

Mac nodded, a hand near his weapon but not yet showing it. Her eyes drew to his waist all the same. “Eric Mac. FBI.”

She remained motionless. “Mazikeen. Smith."

“Ah, the roommate.”

Mazikeen cut her eyes at the house they but didn’t linger. “Maybe. Still working it out.”

“Ms. Decker indicated you moved out.”

“Did she?” her tones stayed flat, revealing nothing.

“Can I help you, Mazikeen?”

“We don’t know each other well enough for you to be allowed to call me that. Also, That depends. Why are you here?”

“That’s confidential. Unless you too happened to know Marcus Pierce.”

She blinked. “So I tell you something, you tell me something?”

“Sure, I’ll bite.”

“He was a prick.”

“Well, that’s not new information. I’m looking into his death.”

Her eyes glinted. “Still.”

“Still looking, yes. There are a lot of people to talk to, including you. I don’t suppose you feel like coming down to the precinct for a formal interview?”

“I’d rather not.”

“We’ll subpoena you if we must. I except there will be a lengthy court case ahead. If you want to minimize your free time spent in court, you could help me now.”

“Good luck with that.”

Mac sighed. “You feel like sharing anything helpful? Were the two of you friends? Acquaintances? Lovers?”

She laughed at the sky, a sharp bark that rattled his teeth. “The second. At best. You know he wasn’t who he said he was.”

That wasn’t a question. He wished he’d tapped his phone on record. “So you know who he was.”

“Oh, yeah. I knew. I knew his very first identity.”

Mac lost all pretense of not taking notes and grabbed his notebook out of his bag, stuffing his photos back in. “Who?”

She followed his movements. “So Lucifer didn’t tell you? He tells all you humans everything as it is. I’m surprised. Pleasantly.”

He gritted his molars. “‘Sinnerman’ mean anything to you?”

“It’s what he called himself. Always thought it was pretentious as fuck.”

“Given his real name, which was?”

“What’s yours?”

“Pardon?”

“I can smell a liar. What’s your name, I’ll give you his.”

“I can’t.”

“There’s power in names, you know. True ones. But only if you know what to do with them.”

“You know Lucifer’s real name?”

“I said - nevermind. That’s his name now. It’s the only one that matters.”

It was a shot in the dark, he knew, but, “Does he have any aliases or names I could look up?”

“Oh, yes. Certainly.”

He poised pen over paper.

She smirked.”Beezelbub, The Adversary, Satan, The Dark One, Goat Lord, Prince of Darkness, Abaddon, Deceiver, The Lightbringer, Father of Lies, King of Hell. There's more. Some are outdated.”

Mac groaned but wrote most of them down anyway. He didn’t remember enough of his Bible to know if all of those were straight out of it or not. “That all, any names not reeking of evil?”

“The _Holy Books_ got more than a few things wrong. Even most humans know that much already.”

“Anything missing from the Bible about a ‘Crime-Solving Devil’?”

“Maybe that should have been his first clue not to waste his time doing their jobs.”

“Oh? To hear it told, he barely does his own job.”

“Not my business. Decker likes having him around.”

 _Oh?_ “She hasn’t been very helpful getting him in touch with me.”

She just looked at him.

He resisted the urge to throw his hands in the air. “Look, I’m not the enemy here.”

“Oh, that’s another one. ‘Enemy’.”

“I’m not his. I’m not his enemy, or yours unless you’re hiding the person who killed Lt. Pierce.”

Mazikeen cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you want to even find his killer? I understand he was responsible for the deaths of your own.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

This woman was impossible. “Justice. For him and maybe some of his other victims as well. We find his killer, maybe that person deserves to be behind bars for other reasons.”

She made a gruff noise in her throat.

“Can you just tell me why you and Lucifer are both so set on these denizens of Hell personas? You and he both talk about me as a ‘human’ as if he isn’t.”

Mazikeen smiled. It was terrifying.

She nodded to him. “ _We_ aren’t. The sooner Lucifer comes to his senses and realizes that, the sooner we can go home.”

Eric didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. “To Hell, right? Fine. He’s the Devil, what are you supposed to be? A succubus?” he realized as his frustration got the better of him that he probably could have chosen a better thing to accuse her of being.

She just shook her head. “Oh, honey. Those aren’t real. Neither are unicorns. I’m a Lilim.”

He bit his lip. “So you two aren’t in agreement on... going home then?”

“Like I said, he’ll come around. He can’t stay here _forever_ ” her eyes flicked at the house again, but that was all.

“You’re maintaining your…identity, regardless?”

The strange woman eyed him, pausing for a moment, then her voice came low and harsh. “ _At the ninth hour, Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?’”_

Fuck. He was going to have to look that up. He let out a breath. “Okay, Lady Lilim. It’s been a pleasure to finally meet you. Do you have a number I can reach you at?”

“No.”

“Right. Lucifer doesn’t lie, but you do.”

“That’s correct,” she turned to go.

“Hey, can you look at this image-”

She was gone.


	6. Cleaning Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan gets all introspective. Mac chats with his wife over scary demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life note:
> 
> Updates are slowing down a bit - anxiety has been up in general and I found out one of our cats has Hyperthyroidism and needs to have her thyroid zapped with basically chemo. She should be fine in a month or two though. Cat medicine has come a very long way.
> 
> I may or may not be using my husband as some inspiration for Mac....
> 
> ____

The shower ran hotter than anything he ever had available, ever. In his _life_. He had to turn the thing down from ‘lava,’ but the sweet spot was perfect. The wide spout ran like rain, a downpour of near-scalding pressure hitting him with the force of a burst dam.

It was _glorious._

He held his hands behind his neck and let it run off him in sheets. Tension flowed off him, eaten away by heat and inhaled steam. Lucifer himself could pop in and it wouldn't put him off.

Okay, that probably would put him off.

Or maybe _on_.

_Dammit, Dan._

He checked over his shoulder. He was still alone, as far as he could tell with the glass walls fogged up. Lucifer probably had a second, third and fourth bathroom on this floor if he needed to take a leak.

_Do angels pee?_

_Sigh._

_Stop it, Dan._

He ducked his head back in, standing directly under the heavy rain setting, holding his breath until his lungs started to ache in time with his soul. The water sluiced down his face, preventing him from taking a breath as effectively as if he were under the surface of a lake.

Would it have been so awful to accept Lucifer’s offer? Even if it had been spur of the moment? Those arms around him here in the shower would have been...interesting. Not like the thin arms and smaller figures of lovers he’d shared this with. Chloe used to enjoy washing his back. Charlotte had been as tall as he was, reaching his neck easily, with a tiny frame.

_Charlotte._

_She’s in heaven_. _She's waiting. Does she want me to wait? Would I want her to?_

_Of course not._

Lucifer had just given him this amazing gift of knowledge and Dan flatly rejected his offer, throwing it in his face by calling it meaningless.

_Fuck._

He washed and rinsed his hair with lavender scented soap, feeling his hands and fingers washed clean of natural wing oils, regretting the loss immediately.

_Fuck._

What was _wrong_ with him?

Dan left the shower in a pre-warmed and fluffy towel. Lucifer was absent when he re-entered the bedroom. His throat tightened, then he heard the piano. He'd never heard Lucifer play the piano in his penthouse. It was slow and soft. He wasn't singing, but Dan figured out it was _Galileo_ after listening for a handful of notes.

 _How long 'til my soul gets it right..._ _  
_ _Can any human being ever reach that kind of light?_

He fished his change of clothing out of the duffle.

He hummed the words. Lucifer, in new silk pajama pants to match the robe, wings folded as close to his body as possible, turned. He played on.

Ella lay passed out on the couch, snoring softly.

Dan must have been in the shower longer than he thought. He looked at his arms, lobster red.

Lucifer did too. “Enjoy your swim?” There was a small smile behind it, well aware of the healing powers of soap and a good soaking rinse.

“Yeah. Hey, thanks.” Dan leaned on the couch, facing the piano.

 _Except for Galileo, God rest his soul..._ _  
_ _King of the night vision, king of insight._

Dan waited for him to finish the song, not wanting to interrupt.

The last notes faded. The apartment rang with stillness. “Daniel?”

He swallowed in the silence. “I'm sorry.”

Dark eyes watched him. Dan could not handle this. Human and not. The Devil on Earth.

“For?”

The pull was still there. Magnetic. Dan took it as a good sign, though suddenly unsure if it had always been there if Lucifer controlled the power.

“Being an ass.”

The eyebrow cocked. Nothing else moved.

“It’s not that I don't....”

Lucifer smiled, a half-curl of lips,  sardonic. “Don’t _want_ the best night of your life? I'm even stuck with the wings out for a while longer. That never happens. You'd be in for a real treat.”

“I still don’t want to not mean anything,” _That didn't come out right either._

“Oh? It seems that it's all I'm good at. _Meaningless_ gestures.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” he winced. “Not everyone we interviewed that time called the sex meaningless.”

He didn't look up. “Just most of them.”

“For a fair number of the people we interviewed, the sex was secondary. You didn't stick around for every interview. It took days.” Dan cracked his brain for the name, but it wouldn't come to him. “There was this one guy you helped come out. He met his boyfriend a couple of days later - after you invited him up but before we called him in. He was...really happy.”

Lucifer paused, hands on keys but not pressing them. “Drew?”

“Maybe? I don't keep track of names that don't end up relevant to a case. Something short like that. You gave him the confidence to talk to this guy he liked.”

He saw tension around his eyes easing, the wings dipping a fraction of an inch. “They still come to the club together sometimes. I didn't know,” he looked thoughtful. “He didn't come back to talk to me. Perhaps he was worried I'd steal his man. They make a nice looking set.”

“He wasn't the only one you helped. There were others. One of them was a sex therapist who needed advice. Didn't know _that_ was a thing before that day.”

“Yes, Sherale still keeps in contact.”

Dan thought the hands on the keys relaxed a fraction. He ran his fingers through his drying hair. “I know what you offered didn't come out of nothing. And, for the record, I'm sure it'd knock my socks off. Everything is just...I can't not think about Charlotte.”

Lucifer started playing again, slowly. He seemed stuck on _Indigo Girls_. “Apology accepted.”

Hesitantly, “You called Charlotte your...step-mother? I asked her about that but she...Well, I think she believed you said you were who you said you were.”

He smiled softly at that, giving away nothing. “Did she?”

Dan missed the playful note in his voice. “Yeah. The night before she...the night before, she told me she had talked to you, several times. She was very fond of you and, well, I was a little jealous of how close you two became. She said she talked to you and Amenadiel about her future, about how you came to know each other. _I_ didn't know what she meant by that, exactly, and she got as evasive as you do sometimes. She told me that she wanted to tell me the whole truth and that she would, just not right then. Over a couple of weeks, she went from anxious to, well, not.”

Dan missed the significance of the eyebrow newly cocked in his direction. He did that a lot. “Really? She intended to _tell_ you?”

“She said she did. She said she wanted all of us to get to know each other better. I still don't know what she meant by it all, but she sounded pretty serious about it. She wanted me to chat with Amenadiel, but it never happened, obviously. I still don't know how he even got involved. Maybe I should look him up now, see if he wants to talk about her. Never got his number, though.”

Lucifer snorted. “You won't find him on earth. I was not pleased with his interference.”

Dan rubbed his face. “Shit. He’s really your _brother_ , isn't he? He always seemed kind of weird, but not...I don't know-” his brain screeched to a halt.

Lucifer rolled his eyes.

 _God. Fuck. Sorry, uhm. God. I think._ “Charlotte wasn't really…?”

“Catching up now, are we?”

“I need a drink.”

“Help yourself.”

Dan didn't move. _Shit._ “Was she? Did I...?”

The grin stretched out. “Yes and no. You only enjoyed the company of my mother the one time I'm aware of. I wasn't keen on her taste. I may have reacted badly. If it was more than once then, feel free to keep that to yourself.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Goddess, actually.”

“Well, that explains her reaction when, uh, nevermind.”

His neck twitched. “Daniel. Did you call out her ex-co-heavenly-ruler's name in bed? My Father? It's annoying enough when my bedmates do it to me, but, well. That's just... _gauche.”_

His heart pounded. He had no idea if Lucifer was pulling his chain, but it didn't bear thinking on. “Oh, my…” _Jesus Christ. Fuck._ “We did things. I...she...Uhm. She’s in heaven and she's...back with...uhm,” _I am so not getting into heaven. Ever._

Charlotte's soft, breathy lips on his body, his stomach as they skipped on his skin with a smile as wide as the sky. Her golden hair falling around him, bright blue eyes meeting his. Pulling his clothes off energetically. Him throwing hers on the floor in a crumpled heap. Falling apart in each other's arms. His brain helpfully remembered their first night of passion together. Of every touch. Every kiss. Every caress.

“You should probably stop now. If it helps, Mum departed this universe to found a new one. She left back on the beach when _Charlotte_ was found collapsed. Mum isn't in the Silver City, but off making a whole new Creation. The woman you bought that _gift_ for _was_ Charlotte Richards. She was no longer my mother. Not that it didn’t make the whole thing less sordid, but it did help _my_ brain.”

 _Aaaaaarrrggg._ Dan got a drink. He shot it, thinking about things. The last time she panted his name in exhausted bliss and of the last time she lay in his arms, curled up, holding her head in pain, shaking and unable to sleep after a nightmare. Waking bolt upright, then shrinking against him. She cried so hard her older kid woke up to check on her while Dan stroked her hair awkwardly and unsure how to help.

He shook himself. “Do I even want to ask how?”

“Escaped Hell.”

Dan pinched the bridge of his nose. _Later._ “She had nightmares. Bad ones. She didn't understand them. She would wake up in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweat. People she knew, her family, died in them,” he swallowed. “In her last one, so did I.”

The dark brown eyes that met his this time softened considerably. “I knew she had nightmares. I didn't know you started appearing in them.”

“The nightmares. Were they _her_ fault? Your mother?”

Lucifer clenched his jaw, seeming to debate on answering. “Somewhat. Daniel, Charlotte spent some time in Hell. She died and her soul went there. She was not a terribly good human.”

“Not-!”

“Hang on. When mum left, Charlotte returned to her body. She had gotten a second chance at life, and redeemed herself. Amenadiel took her to heaven.”

Dan threw back another shot, tension coming back in spades. “Did you send her to Hell? The first time?”

“Not my call. Never had been. You bloody humans send yourselves. There are over seven billion of you bastards walking the earth right now. Do you think I could shepherd the undeserving personally? Do you see a bloody canoe in my garage?”

 _Arrrrrrrrggggh_. _I definitely don't want to know- oh, Styx. Right._

Dan breathed. He looked through his glass at the bar. Drinking the Devils whiskey. Okay. “The nightmares. They were of Hell?”

“I'm afraid so, yes.”

“You tried. You tried to fix them somehow? You did something?”

“She needed proof she wasn't going insane. I grudgingly gave her some, as Amenadiel convinced me that either way she risked losing her mind.”

“She saw you?”

“Just the wings. It helped her. She found out she wasn't crazy.”

 _Just? What else is there? A feather tail?_ He got a refill, thinking back. “A few weeks before, right? She came over, feeling...lighter, better. She still had nightmares, after that. But she handled it better. I guess I should thank you for that.”

His voice raised, irritated. _“Thank me_? I took her free will, like I've taken away yours, now. And Ella.”

“And Chloe? Because we know now? You knew simply telling us you were the Devil wouldn't do that. But seeing it…”

“You can't live your life now without _knowing_ your choices will _lead_ one way or another.”

Dan didn't have a response to that. He wasn't wrong. God, was there anyone he could talk to? His old priest? _Father Theo, so, I met the Devil. I work with him. Had sex with a not-yet-divorced woman. Who was also, at least at some point_ _a Go_ _d_ _dess,_ ** _and_** _Lucifer's mother._ _Yes,_ ** _that_** _Lucifer._ _Almost had sex with_ ** _him_** _too. Still kind of want to._

Maybe not.

He suddenly looked at Lucifer, sitting there. “Is that..are you...uhm.”

“Well?”

“Is that someone else's body too?”

Lucifer had started to take a drink himself, nearly choked on it.

“I mean, you're British…?”

“No, Daniel. This body is how I began, and how I'll...well, I suppose it's possible I might perish someday. I just like the accent. It's fun. Never could do ‘American’ that well. You're just too bloody _young_.”

Dan grumbled something about his grandparents ancestry not being strictly _American_ but left it.

He sighed, again, rinsing his glass and putting it in the sink.

“Are you planning on jotting off?”

He had started to move, to collect Ella. He remembered that Lucifer wouldn't volunteer information. Wouldn’t ever show vulnerability. Push people away while collecting favors. Affable and aloof. He came up to Lucifer's side instead. Hesitated. “I’m glad you're here. Retired or whatever.”

That startled him. “Oh?”

He sighed. “You managed to make my life more interesting. Trixie adores you. I know - I _guess_ that introducing yourself to every single person you come across must be exhausting. I can't _imagine_ telling people that I'm Dan Espinoza and having other people look at me like I'm insane. Daily. Still not sure why you do it.”

Lucifer eyed him. “Oddly enough that's not the first time another human has said that aloud to me. Other than your name and your offspring's, that is. Still, I appreciate your coming to the sentiment in such a short time.”

“You can't actually do it, can you?”

“Hmmm?”

“Call me Dan.”

“I prefer Daniel. Sounds less like a brick wall.”

“I make a pretty good wall, you know.”

“Hmm. Lousy bed though.”

Dan felt himself blush a little. “I'm glad I wasn't alone tonight is all. You actually did _me_ a favor. Fixing your, uhm,”

“They're wings, Daniel.”

“Well, it helped. Me, I mean. It was the first thing I've done in days that felt like it meant _something._ I was able to clear my head and feel useful. So, I owe you.”

“Strange reason to feel that way, but alright.”

Lucifer left room on the piano bench, so Dan took it, carefully. “Can I ask a weird question?”

“You can; I don't have to _answer_ it.”

“Are you horny like, all the time?”

“Is that suddenly a crime? Oohh, do you want to try putting me in handcuffs?” Lucifer waggled his eyebrows over his drink.

“I mean,” Dan felt heat rising, again. _Why can't anything I say come out the way I want it to?_

Another eye roll. “I _choose_ partners, Daniel. You aren't merely convenient. Well, maybe a little, but you are also easy on the eyes. You lack the charm of the Detective, but you've grown on me over our work together. Some.”

“Oh.”

Lucifer gave him another look with darkened eyes that made him seriously reconsider his previously proclaimed straightness. Again. “Eloquent as always. Hmmm. Are you regretting your hasty exit from my bed?”

 _A little_. He wasn't sure if he vocalized or not, but either way, Lucifer reacted with a mischievous look. _God, please don't turn out to be a mind reader too. Can you read my mind?_

“Are you stuck, Daniel? I know I'm nice to look at but I didn't think I'd be _stunning_ hours after the fact.”

_Not a mind reader. Probably. Okay._

He scratched his neck. “I don't know how to ask. Or if I should.”

Lucifer switched music pieces to something different, had to be modern but not something he recognized. “Ask.”

“Will you need. Uhm. Grooming again?” Dan knew he was blushing furiously. Again.

The response came cautiously. “That depends.”

It would be horribly easy to say the exact wrong thing. Dan worked his jaw, considering it. “You said free will was important. It's not because I'm trying to get heaven points for...that, if that's even a thing. It just, felt good for my head. And you seemed to really enjoy it, too. It really was the first time in days I was able to get out of my own head. I don't want to just, use you for therapy.”

Lucifer side-eyed him but didn't kick him off the bench either. He prompted Dan to continue through look alone.

He sighed. “I liked it. And I'd like to do it again.”

He finally rewarded Dan with a warmer look. “See? True and to the point. No feelings of compulsion then? Desire to touch them again out of Celestial association?”

“I got to _do_ something. And it felt good. I don’t know how often you need it, if at all, outside of whatever you did with them.”

“And if I refuse?”

His heart sank. _Still can't do anything right._ “I guess I'll see if I still have nana's knitting needles in a box somewhere. Doing something with my hands was nice. It reminded me of when she taught me how to make a scarf. Just don't tell anyone, okay?”

Lucifer gave him a slightly flabbergasted look. " _Knitting?_ Pawing through my divine wings made you think of _knitting_?”

Dan grumbled. “Hey, I didn't hear any complaints. My nana taught me when I was younger, and it was...fun.”

He got a smirk and a headshake and Dan felt a little safer. A little. Lucifer stopped playing the piano again. “I'll consider it.” His voice lowered. “You do _owe_ me after all.”

The voice coiled and settled into his stomach, soothing and pulling at the same time. The playful promise in it jolting him back to the hard body over him. Choosing his partners. Him.

Dan didn't want to go home to an empty apartment. Nor did he want to _use_ his friend like a lovely electric blanket just to be shut off again in the morning. Even if he offered himself as such.

Lucifer must have sensed something, an indecision or curiosity. He hummed. “You could still stay. My bed’s always open, at least to certain individuals. No strings attached.”

_Just this once. It would be so easy, accepting his proposition._

_Maybe I_ **_want_ ** _strings attached._

_Lucifer isn't a strings attached kind of guy._

_I wonder what he tastes like?_

Lucifer's smile flickered. He leaned in, intending to corner Dan with a seductive, lusty kiss to encourage him to stay, to take the easy way, take what he offered.

Dan registered that he had a split second to respond, to duck away or not. He didn't and he didn't know _why_.

His mouth was hot and soft, wide and firm. Prickly five o’clock shadow smoothed under fingers he didn't consciously reach up with. Fingers curled against the back of his head, raising goosebumps on his neck.

He didn't jerk away.

His eyes fell closed. He let go a little. In the quiet and stillness of their space. The whole night could be like this. Small, tight sounds and breath coming harder. Mutual release and shared warmth. He became aware of the knee touching his.

Lucifer's lips opened on his, trying for more. Temptation itself, living and breathing and he stood a hair's breadth away from outright seduction. Dan pulled back, not letting him deepen the kiss, keeping it chaste rather than greedy. But fuck all if he wasn't _good_ at it. Dan found his other hand below Lucifer's ribs, slipping on silk that hid nothing of the hard body under it. Darkened eyes looked hopefully from under lowered lashes and defined black liner.

He sighed. “I need to go.”

Lucifer hummed again. Not overly hurt but maybe with a hint of disappointment, and something else. It pulled at him again, one last time. “Shame. I can't even dial up a Brittany.” He fluffed the wings. “Leaving me all alone then? Abandoning your patient to care for himself?”

“Somehow, I'm sure you can manage.” Which prompted _another_ vision of how exactly he might just _manage._ He sucked in air.

Lucifer's eyes twinkled just a little, easily reading him, leering. “Well, at least I have some recently acquired visual fuel for the _managing_ of myself. Hmm. Maybe even a few times. It has been _quite_ a long day.”

He didn't squeak, probably. “You haven't seen me naked.” How many…?

“Well, there's the spa day too. And one rather low-slung and thin towel fighting a losing battle with gravity. And my perfect memory.”

“Thanks, I think?” Dan scurried off the bench, heat rising everywhere. Lucifer peeked at _him_ then _?_

He poked Ella to wake her and rescue him from making a potentially bad decision. “Hey, sleepy head.”

She cracked open an eye, stretching and yawning so theatrically that she must have been awake for at least part of the talk. “Hey guys,” she elbowed Dan. “I half expected to drive you home in the morning.”

_Sigh._

“Can you drive? I think I've had too much.”

“Sure, buddy,” she hopped up and offered open arms to Lucifer, who didn't stand up. She shrugged. “Your loss.”

Dan paused at the elevator doors as they opened. “See you at work tomorrow?”

“Probably not.”

He bit his lip. “You're weird, and you make my life difficult. But…”

He gave one last arched eyebrow from the piano. “There better be a good 'but' after that.”

Dan collected his thoughts. “In retrospect, if anything I learned in school was ever more relevant right now, it's that history is written by the victors. The world is worse off for you not being one of them.”

He didn't expect a response, surprised when Lucifer _appeared_ by the elevator door. Ella jumped. He held out a long silvery grey feather.

Dan blinked. “What?”

“Amenadiel’s. When he took Charlotte, he left it, I assume for me to find. A message that he got his wings back, and his angelic status. You may...hold onto it for a day or two, should you insist wasting your time with the funeral. If I've found you've shown it to _anyone,_ you'll wish I'll _only_ rip your head off in reparations. Understood?”

Dan nodded, unable to breathe.

When he finally got into his own bed, he didn't feel so alone.

* * *

Agent Eric McBeth shook off the creeps.

After Mazikeen vanished into the night, he stood waiting for another minute, peering into the black between streetlights. No vehicle tail lights appeared from the direction she walked.

His phone vibrated.

This time it was a text from his wife. Their older son playing with their border collie mix, Nimitz. Cathy caught the dog while he was making a play bow. His furry butt up in the air, head cocked and tongue lolling.

Dogs and children. Innocent creatures.

He called his wife, leaning on his rental car. She picked up after one ring. “Hey hon, you have a second?”

His wife's voice came through, rich and warm. She sounded like she had to juggle things. “Always, babe, what's up?”

“I'm running into some hurdles here, and I'm feeling a little like Martin in Grosse Point Blank.”

“why, did something blow up?”

“Not yet, but I'm not ruling it out before the case is closed.”

“You getting cramped by another agent?”

“I think I'm the only one taking this seriously but that's neither here nor there. It's more I'm in the ‘deep end of the pool’, except the pool's closed, it's night, and someone filled the bottom half of it with garden slugs.”

“So, what's the problem?”

He worked it around in his brain. “I feel like someone already handed me the plastic wrapped dossier with all the secrets I need to know inside it but I'm not opening it because I'm delaying the inevitable.”

“Pain? Truth? A previously undiscovered secret of the universe?” she hummed, puttering around in the kitchen. “Are you worried they asked you to chase a guy you can't close the deal on?”

“Only in the sense that if you're right, I have to keep looking for the _real_ bad guy.”

“Well, you can't tell me why you're there, but I'm guessing the Devil, what killed someone?” she made a lip-smacking noise that made him think of licking cake batter.

Eric sighed. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Buuuuut, if it was _just_ murder,” an oven door slammed shut, “they wouldn't have sent you. So the Devil launders money too. Or something else financial. Oh, maybe he killed more than one guy, and this is the first one that’s gonna trip him up. What's next?”

“I want to ask you about some files I got today, but I can't,” he thought about angels and demons. “When you were a kid, who did you talk to about religion? Your mom’s sister, right?”

“I know you and her didn't get along all the time, but yeah, she talked up a storm about God and Jesus. Sometimes I even kept up with her. She knew her Bible better than my college professor in religious studies.”

He nodded, though she couldn't see it. “She might have been helpful. I think I could have flown her down here to meet Lucifer and one of the two of them would have burst into flames. Problem solved.”

Cathy graciously chuckled. “I think she would have enjoyed something like that, meeting someone who thinks he's the Devil. Put him in his place. She saw angels you know. Maybe she asked one to go with you. ‘ _For He will give His angels charge concerning you, To guard you in all your ways. They will bear you up in their hands, That you do not strike your foot against a stone.’”_

He smiled at that. “Maybe there's one on my shoulder right now. Maybe she did ask for someone to watch over me. A woman I just talked to didn't kill me. Tonight. I'm pretty certain she could have.”

“What woman? You know better than to flirt with scary women.”

“Ha. Her name - well, I probably can't tell you even though it's as fake as Lucifer’s. But she and him dance the same jig, arrived in L.A. at the same time, if not together. She called me a ‘human’ as if she wasn’t. She was not an angel either.”

“Weirdos.”

“She walked over my grave, Cath.”

“Want me to come down there and kick her ass?”

The thought amused and terrified him. “Thanks, hon, I'd rather you not bruise your knuckles. Plus, you'd have to get a sitter and walker. Just ask your aunt Millie to pray for me or whatever. She would have anyway.”

Cathy breathed out. He knew she was touching the ring her mother used to wear. “We don't talk as much these days. Either of them.”

“She always listened to you. You could call her at 3 am, and she picked it up. Hell, Millie even picked up for me once.”

“I miss her. When I pray tonight I'll ask, but she’s probably too busy playing with all her cats.”

Mac’s memory recalled a few cats and dogs of lifetimes past. “I miss her too. Heaven is too crowded these days.”

“Yeah. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he didn't want to head back to his hotel yet. “Hey, what do you think the Devil is doing in L.A.?”

“Irony? Is he a sarcastic jerk?”

“He’s friendly, though I haven't had personal contact with him yet. He's avoiding me. Almost everyone here _loves_ him. To more or less physical degrees.”

“Oh? He's a…?”

“Gets around, yes.”

She snorted again. “Well, just remember you're married. If he bats those big brown eyes and mile-long lashes at you and you find your willpower crumbling, just think about my aunt. She will rescue you from his lecherous advances.”

“You got it,” he blinked. “You looked him up?”

“He’d put a middle-aged FBI guy up for a run for his money, but you know, I can't _resist_ a federal agent, so you're safe.”

Eric rubbed his face. “If you bought the calendar, just don't tell me about it, okay? Since I'm investigating him?”

Cathy's voice perked up. “Oh, he has a calendar? What kind? And _is_ he suspected of murder?”

 _Sigh._ “Some charity thing, actually. Some of the officers in various precincts posed for it. I'm amazed it wasn't the first thing that popped up on a search,” m _y eyeballs will never be the same._

“Well, I'll go looking for _that_. Nah, I just set up my Google alerts to ping me after you left for your case. Not much has shown up, since it hasn't been long, but there's a tease for an anniversary special some columnist wrote up. Lucifer's five-year mark came and went, but it’s coming up on eight years now. Apparently, people want to know why he’s not remarried.”

“Well, if you buy that garbage - wait, _remarried_? he's divorced?”

“Yeah, he secretly married this chick in Nevada named Candy. There's photos of the Vegas chapel shotgun wedding. They're both smiling like idiots.”

“Shit. Can you send me the link? That's not in my files. Married in secret?”

“Uhm, yeah, that's all the tease was. There will be more when it hits the internet,” some sounds came through and she put herself on hands-free. Tapping ensued. “Okay, here's the thing you wanted. And _here's_ the thing I wanted...oh, my.”

That did not sound good. “What?”

“That's a _very_ interesting use of police handcuffs.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh, _yes_.”

“Cath…”

“Hmm? Don't worry, I won't hang it in your office. Or anywhere the kids will see it.”

“Then, where? Is it that bad?”

“It's for _charity._ I'll find a discreet place for it. Do you want the promo photo? I can send it to you,” her voice oozed with mischief.

Eric rolled his eyes at nothing. He knew he wasn't much to look at, but he didn't worry either. At least he wasn't going grey. And anything that made his wife happy usually worked out for him in the long run. “No. Hey, you had courses on religion in college, does ‘Lilim’ mean anything to you?”

Nimitz barked sharply near her. “I gotta let the dog out and put up leftovers. I can check more later but it's related to Lilith. Do you want me to call you back in a little bit?”

“Nah, unless you can think of a reason a woman would call herself that - ‘of Lilim.’ Jay asked me to swing by the club but -” he checked his tracking app. “Everyone is home for the night and I don't feel like going there just to be avoided again.”

“You know...”

“Yeah?”

“I bet you'd have a better chance of talking to him if you show up, get drunk off your butt and loudly bitch about work. I bet he'd love that, being anti-authority figure and all.”

“That’s... actually a mostly good idea.”

“No problem.”

* * *

It didn't work.

Lucifer never appeared and Mac ended up drinking a few club sodas and one indulgent martini. Luckily he planned on stepping up to shots only after the owner made rounds. It was unusual for the Devil not to spend some time hosting downstairs, according to various patrons. A staff member confirmed Espinoza and Lopez went up, Lopez left again and then returned over some period of time, then both departed together an hour after that. Neither loitered downstairs. Lucifer _had_ to be up there.

At 1 am, Mac exchanged annoyed texts with his boss regarding uncooperative not-officially-suspects. Jay told him to go to bed. At 2 am, he went back to his hotel and passed out in his clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kevin is coming to Lux in Brighton! I'm going to babble like an idiot over all of them.


	7. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan wrestles metaphorically with real angels

Waking up alone, mentally sore and clutching his pillow to his midsection, Dan missed his days of relative sanity. He _almost_ hoped to discover it was all a bad dream, that he _only_ worked with a guy who pined over his ex-wife and thought he was the Devil himself. That a perfectly abnormal human male kissed him last night.

_Abnormally handsome._

Would his brain even be doing this to him if Lucifer wasn’t... _Lucifer?_ He’d never found other men attractive, but he hadn’t exactly dwelled on it before. Lucifer wasn’t even his _type._ Neither blonde nor light-eyed. He unhappily remembered that was fast approaching the age where _type_ should be much less of a factor when considering partners. It’s not like he’d ever get as lucky again with finding someone like Charlotte Richards.

Dan turned to lie flat, looking up at his dull ceiling lost in shadows and held his pillow, sunlight reaching for his toes. It should have been a person. _Hell, Lucifer made it perfectly clear he didn’t have to wake up alone._ _But then what? Another conquest for the Devil that’d he’d no doubt parade all over the precinct, like he did with ninety-two ex-lovers over a span of two weeks? No thank you._

_Probably._

Under his pillow, his dick started to have other ideas. _Not today, Satan._

_Fuck me._

After the way Ella had pushed ‘Pecker’, he probably had something similar to look forward to over the next few days. ‘Luce’pinoza’? ‘MorningDan’? _Oh that’s a happy one_. Dammit Ella. At least he had someone else in their little conspiracy to talk to. Would work ever be the same again? Of course not.

On the bright side, for the first time in almost a week he woke up refreshed, or at least not waking up as a zombie. His dreams were strange, haunting. He saw Charlotte in a white flowing silk dress, hovering before him with blue-tinted wings the color of her eyes. The wings were smaller than Lucifer’s, her feathers were finer, more narrow with sharply pointed, darker tips. She wrapped her arms and wings around him, kissing his cheek. She told him she was only borrowing the wings as they weren’t hers - she wasn’t an angel and not to be afraid. That it was okay to just borrow something for a little while. She befriended an angel and she was very nice.

Dan became aware of another presence in the dream, but it felt like a suggestion of a person. _She_ didn’t intrude.

He dismissed the other being and held Charlotte and cried in her hair. He told her everything that had happened, since she left. Pierce was dead. Chloe almost died and about he and Ella and Lucifer and he didn’t know if he could deal with it. There’s an investigation that might not end well for anyone. He told her how much he missed her, how he wished he’d been there, protected her. How he _should_ have been there

She stroked his hair and his back and told him it was alright. Light feathers brushed him. For a moment they were back in bed and everything was alright. When dawn rose, he made waffles, they went to work, they came home and made love again. Every day until they retired and their grandkids visited them and they took them to the park. She would have had silver hair and glasses and more laugh lines. He would have passed before her. It should have been him waiting for her, not the other way around.

 _“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”_ Dan’s brain helpfully supplied that the quote was from Ecclesiastes.Maybe. Probably.

The angel who waited nearby but not sighed.

He knew then that it was just a dream. It came to him like cold water on his face.

One of those rare moments when dreams become lucid, so he hung onto it for as long as he could, cocooned in her borrowed blue wings and wrapping his arms around her for what seemed like forever. She smelled like what he imagined as heaven. His fingers clawed into her robes, careful of the wings. They weren't hers and he didn't want to damage them. As he was lucid dreaming, he could just make them hers, but he didn't want to risk doing anything that might make him wake up.

Instead, he just held her, talking into her hair. “I miss you.”

She sniffed softly, not speaking for a while. “I know. I was going to come see you in your dreams before long, if I could.” He felt her look away, her golden hair pulling a little under his face. She was quiet for a moment longer. “I almost wasn’t allowed to, because of Lucifer. I might not be able to do this again.”

He knew it was true. But not why. In his heart, he knew she couldn't or wouldn't appear again, like this. He didn't lucid dream often, and it rarely lasted long, usually only as long as it took him to figure out he had control.

He decided not to wake up.

She kissed his head and he felt her smile. “You can’t do that either. But I’ll see you again, I hope.”

“You hope?”

“Getting here...there...takes work. It just turns out that, well. I can't say that either.” She sighed. “Be good, okay? I want to see you again, and you better not be all alone when you do come. I’ll be very upset if I find out you spent the rest of your life alone.”

He didn't quite parse it. His hands went to her face carefully, watching her eyes instead of thinking. _Don't think. The dream will end if you think._

She smiled again and kissed him gently. “Try not to bottle yourself up, okay? Don't be sad for me - I’m okay now. Don't forget to live.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I'm going to your service tomorrow.”

“I'll try to be there too.” She grinned to herself. “In spirit. It's not always allowed.” her smile faded.

“Are you…?”

Her throat moved. “I'm okay. I miss the kids," her voice caught. “I miss everyone back there. I miss my work. I haven’t really adjusted. They say sudden deaths sometimes take longer for - well.” she stopped.

He tensed. He never thought of it the other way. Of her missing him. Her body rested warm against his, her breath on his ear.

She spoke again. “I won't see my kids again for a long time.”

He didn't speak.

Charlotte held him. “I'm sorry I left you.”

He pressed his head into the side of hers, finally pulling back so he could see her eyes. “Don't be sad,” he swallowed, smiling a little. “If you're sad, I'll be sad too. I'll know it, okay? So you can't be sad in heaven.”

Light touched her beautiful blue eyes. She touched her hand to her face, wiping away tears and her wrist glinted with a thin silver chain and a round charm, but everything was a little blurry. “Okay. But I still miss you. I'll try to think happy thoughts.”

His heart lurched. His feet hovered off the floor in her arms and he was weightless. The inside of her wings were warm and soft. Everything was still and peaceful, a kind of gradient horizon of earth and sky. No wind.

Where were they anyway?

She answered his unspoken question. “Next door to purgatory.” She glanced up at the sky. “I have to go now.”

His arms tightened around her small waist. “No.”

Charlotte touched his face. He couldn't feel her fingertips. Her robes lost substance. Panic rose in his chest like a cresting wave. He lost control of the dream and expected to wake up.

Her eyes latched to his. “I love you. Don't be afraid. See you soon, but not too soon, okay? Not too soon.” 

The wings came away from around his body. He grabbed for her, missing. Dan fell, slipping on air, plunging straight down, feet first, into body temperature water that had no resistance. He couldn't swim in it, plummeting without the rush of wind, with his stomach in his throat. Bubbles and foam flew up.

_Why wasn't he waking up?_

From above the broken surface, her form wavered, her blue eyes burned red and she flew after him, but her shape changed. Pure white wings enveloped him, larger and heavy with gravity. The further he dropped, the heavier everything became, the opposite of water. It wasn't liquid anymore.

Black eyes came close, but embedded in red skin. Flames licked at his feet and began to eat him alive. The wings caught fire and burned with acrid black smoke.

He woke then in his bed in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and heart pounding. It took him a long time to go back to sleep, but when he woke again from a dreamless state, he felt...better.

At work, Dan came back to himself from his thoughts.

He had been shuffling the same stack of printed sheets for ten minutes, sorting them on top of each other for no reason. And now they were completely out of any order, judging by the page number on the bottom of the top page. He blinked several times and thought about his life.

Chloe kicked the foot of his desk. “Hey!”

Dan startled, rescuing his coffee mug before it flew off the corner, shoved by his own reaction. “Hey. What?” Cold coffee splashed over his wrist. _Ugh._

She winced. “Sorry, you weren't responding to verbal cues. We have to get going soon. Do you have a jacket?”

He shot a look at his phone screen, showing a short amount of time before the memorial. He patted his jacket pocket absently. “Yeah, I have a black dress jacket and a tie in my car.”

Chloe cocked her head. “Hey? How are you?”

“I'm…” Dan looked up into her eyes. He'd seen every emotion under the sun from those eyes before. Including this one. Funerals and services they'd gone to before, together. Loss, again.

She was more worried than she let on, some of the block of ice she had been walking around in had begun to chip off at the corners, maybe remembering some of the same things. His grandfather's memorial. Both her grandparents, six years apart.

 _She knows about Lucifer._ _Does she need to know I know? Would it help or hurt right now?_

His thoughts slowly congealed. “I don't know. Honestly? Better. I think.” _I fixed Lucifer's wings. Me and Ella. With a knife and pills and booze and-_

With hair in a tight bun, her lines always looked serious, intense. Her eyes flicked away and back to him. She wanted to ask him something but he didn't know what. He sure as hell didn't want to guess. She bit her lip and looked at his desk.

“Are _you_ okay? You got robbed yesterday or something, right? Is Trixie okay?”

Chloe swallowed. “Lucifer told you?”

 _Shit_ . “I overheard his end. I thought he was going to bolt.” _Which would have been super awkward with the wings._

Her head bobbed, looking away, quietly. “Oh. I see. Someone broke in and stole...a box of stuff I was about to throw out anyway.”

Worlds hung between them. “Ah?”

“It doesn’t matter. They didn’t take a single thing I cared about. I had the locks replaced right away, and we’re both fine.” She nodded firmly.

There was a lie in there somewhere. But he wasn’t sure where. He knew when not to press. “Okay. Do you want to stay somewhere else tonight? I have a spare bedroom at my place if you think you might feel safer.”

“No, I’ll get a hotel if I need to. I’ll be fine.” She pulled at her neck, looking down at him. Her jaw tightened. She looked angry, her voice clipped. “Are you even going to be at your place? You were with him last night? Lucifer?”

Dan scratched his head, thoughts on other things and wondering why she sounded mad. Why wouldn’t he be at his place? “I might have had a little too much to drink.”

She shot him a look he didn't decipher.

“What?”

Chloe huffed. “You're, you know, an adult, Dan, even if he isn’t sometimes. I'm not going to-” She rolled her eyes at herself. “I'll talk to you about it later, if you want, okay?”

“O...kay?”

She looked unconvinced about whatever the hell she thought they were talking about. ”I'll see you there, yeah? I don't think I'll stay long, but come find me if you want, alright?”

 _Hey, something I can talk about._ “Is Trixie...?”

She shook her head. “No, there's no reason to bring her. She didn't know Charlotte, really. She would have liked to get to be friends.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” His brain still wasn't cooperative. He was relieved Trixie wasn't going, as kids and funerals didn't really mix. They were either too young to understand what’s going on, too close to the person who died and completely overwhelmed, or didn’t know how to act around a bunch of sniffling and crying adults.

Chloe's face pinched. She didn't usually bite her tongue when she wanted to say something. She briefly touched her left fingers with her right, a live wire of nervous energy.

“Something wrong, Chlo’?”

Instead of answering, she glared.

“I mean, other than everything else?”

She squeezed the bridge of her nose for several seconds. “I don't need...just be careful, okay?”

A well and truly baffled Dan watched Chloe leave. She made a stop at her desk for something.

_What the hell just happened?_

Ella picked that moment to appear and sit on the edge of his desk. “Hey.” she wore business casual for a change, in dark slate grey.

Dan glanced around. Mac lounged in Pierce's office, rifling through files. Another agent, one of the women with dark hair, lingered with him, arms crossed impatiently.

Ella poked him in the shoulder. “You talk to Chloe?”

“Yeah, just for a minute.”

She tilted her head. “About the thing?”

“What thing?”

She hissed. “You know. The thing with the thing.”

“Oh, _that_ thing. No, Not...yet. I don't think today is a good day. Have you?”

Ella sighed. “No. Maybe you and I should do it together. And, not here, at work.” She looked away. “You know, I shouldn't have been so detailed in my report. Maybe they'll figure it out too.”

“They don't have years of personal experience with Lucifer. Maybe you could talk to the agent and try to put him off track.”

Her voice pitched up, hopeful. “You could do it?”

“Ella, you are well aware I don't have a poker face to save my life. Hey, did Chloe say anything _strange_ to you?”

“Strange? Like hey, we know angels now strange?”

“No. Maybe it’s just me. Jumping at shadows.” _Shadows, right._

“Oh! Maybe I should invite her out for a girls night. She could probably use someone to talk to. The last night out was kind of a disaster if you count the bachelorette party and I want to make up for it, you know? We should get her hella wasted.”

“What about maybe, _not_ drinking? Don't women do ice cream and chocolate or something too? She probably needs to talk more than get drunk off her ass. Or maybe both.”

“You think?”

“We were married for ten years. Chloe and roaring drunk was never a good combination. She tends to drink too much and pass out, which isn't healthy. I know we did that one time at Lucifer’s, but that didn't mean it was a good idea.”

“Do you think she’s okay? I mean with the...thing?”

“I can try again later. She _seems_ normal to me, all things considered. Except that she also sounded really angry at me about last night.”

“Oh!” Ella flushed. “You told her Lucifer totally tried to get in your pants?”

“What? _No_ , just that I was there last night and had too much to drink and...oh no.”

“Uh huh. I guess you forgot to mention I was there too.”

_Shit._

Dan buried his face in his hands. “We didn’t even _do_ anything.”

A passing cop gave him a look.

Ella poked him in the shoulder. “You totally should have.”

“Not right now, okay, Ella? I mean, outside of that, she still seemed kind of weird? I know she has a lot going on, and we all do. It’s like she’s pushing everyone away.”

“Yeah, she hasn’t really talked to me either. Maybe you’re right about the not-drinking idea.”

 _Her voice. Her hesitation._ “I mean, what if she...doesn't remember what happened or something crazy?”

Ella gasped. “Oh, my-” she looked around and dropped her voice to a whisper. “That can happen, a kind of shock induced amnesia, right? I’m not saying you’re right, but that would make sense?”

Dan worked on the idea. “I mean, if she has doubts about her own memory of the attack, if she has some holes about it but knows who he is, she isn't going to ask anyone if she was saved by the Devil, right?”

Ella considered it. “I mean, okay, _I_ might. But I'm not an atheist, never have been. Chloe?”

“Always, I think. After her dad was killed while on duty, she probably got even more solidly anti-God. I always thought she might have been able to find some comfort in the idea of an afterlife, but she saw it differently. We all work through things in our own ways.”

“Dude.”

He gave her what he hoped was a pointed look. “Ella. I'm not going to rub her face in it. Hell, she probably doesn't even want anything to do with Lucifer since he represents-” _Ah, shit._

“Everything she _never_ believed in? Yeah. You should talk to her.”

“Not right now. But yeah.”

They sat quietly for a moment, glancing up at the agents in the Lieutenant's office.

Ella played with a pen on his desk. “Are they doing a memorial for Pierce?”

“I don't even know where his body is, especially if you don't. Is that the kind of thing where they could carbon date him to see how old he was?”

Much to his chagrin, she burst out laughing. “Oh, my God, Dan, that's not how it works, at all.” She wiped her eyes, tears starting to leak out.

“Nerd.”

“You asked. Most things under fifty thousand years old won't even come back with an accurate result. And I hope he wasn't _that_ old.” She stopped, putting on her scientist face. “Of course, that really depends on how old humanity itself is, right? Since Cain was the third human born.”

“Ella.”

“Does that mean God only started giving _homo sapiens_ a soul at some point, or were Adam and Eve literal?”

“Ellaaaaa.”

“Cause if they were, humans still needed a million years to diversify, not only melanin concentration in skin, but epicanthic folds too. Unless there were multiple Edens, that is, spread across different time periods.” She tapped her lips. “That wouldn't necessarily jive with how we model human expansion, but God really did have a plan, right? I mean, Lucifer could tell us if Last Tuesdayism is real.”

“...What?”

“The concept that the universe was  created exactly as it is. Last Tuesday and no one would ever know otherwise.”

“Ella, my brain cells are already spread pretty thin.”

She blinked, pulling out a notepad and jotting down something he had no desire to read over her shoulder. “Still, I like that you want to figure out how old he was. I’ll see if the hospital records have anything from when he got shot.”

“That might be a good idea anyway. But I don't know if that will help anything.”

“Do you think the FBI _knows_?”

“That depends. Are you filing a follow-up report?”

“Nope. Nothing we found yesterday points to identifying a murderer.”

 _The bloody knife does. “_ Yeah.”

Ella patted him on the shoulder and turned to go back to her lab, maybe to check one last thing before heading out.

Dan had a million questions and no one to ask. At least not right now. He wanted to text Lucifer to ask if he was coming, in spite of everything he said the night before.

He thought about texting him the time and place, but he'd already know. Mostly he wanted to say _something._

His fingers hovered over the little black piece of tech, the blank screen reflecting his face. He looked tired, drawn.

_It was nice seeing you last night. Are you healing? How are your wings, do you need someone to check them? Ella wants to know if you're feeling better. What are you up to tonight? How are you at dream interpretation? Does God have a favorite color?_

_Sigh._

The grey feather in his pocket reminded him of another possibility.

Looking around, he pulled out the feather, but no one else was near his desk now that Ella left.

Warm in his hand, he felt better just holding it, glad Lucifer let him borrow it. He rolled the shaft between his fingers, watching the light catch on the ribs. He was careful to hold it under his desk, out of sight.

Was Amenadiel really the last one to see Charlotte? Would he even talk to him?

He pressed the feather ribs together where a few had separated near the tip, thinking of Lucifer’s living feathers under his fingers. Soft, shorter feathers around the open wounds he had to pull out or cut away. Warm, almost hot skin at the join of his back and the wings. Lucifer had freckles on his back and shoulders. Did God make angels with freckles or did Lucifer get to choose his appearance to some degree?

_Amenadiel._

A number of badly sorted papers scattered, blown off his desk, then they stopped, frozen in the air. A cheap ink pen hovered in front of his face.

Dan blinked, looking at _Amenadiel_.

And his two huge silvery wings.

Inside the precinct.

Dan yelped and fell over. No one noticed.

_What?_

No one looked his way. Dan, on his knees, took a second look around. No one moved. The air felt thick. No phones rang. He caught sight of Chloe headed out the door now, mid-step, head down over her phone, one hand outstretched, palm on the glass.

Amenadiel cleared his throat.

Dan locked in place, carefully watching him. The angel wore some sort of outfit that screamed ‘unearthly’, in a grey, maybe woolen vest, simple arm wraps and a...skirt? Meeting his eyes, he finally saw the family resemblance between Amenadiel and Lucifer. Dark eyes with ancient depths, older than time with those thousand-yard stares.

Not to mention, judgemental.

The angel sighed. “Dan, why do you have that?”

Dan's brain broke a little in another direction. It sheared off and grew a pair of legs and galloped away. “I, uh.”

“I suppose I should be asking why you called me. Lucifer gave that to you, obviously. But why?”

Dan blinked slowly, not daring to stand up. He wasn’t sure his legs would hold him anyway. “I didn't mean to? I was going to...call you...on your phone later. But I...do you still have one? A phone, I mean?”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “I see. Yes, I owned one, but no longer have need of it. It would be back in the apartment with other worldly belongings I need not claim any more.” He tilted his head toward Dan, pausing to collect his words. “Thank you for helping my brother. I doubt he would have openly requested assistance without prompting. I'm pleased you appear to be...yourself.”

Dan folded his legs under him. Chloe had a stray lock of hair floating around her head, suspended. “Jury is still out.”

“Again, why did you call me?”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to. That wasn’t what I was trying to do. I didn’t know that would even work.” He looked down at the floor, sensing his impatience, then up at the angel. “I'm going to Charlotte's funeral in a little bit. I guess I just wanted to know if she's...okay? Lucifer said he thought you...took her when she died.”

Amenadiel stood stock still, the wings moving ever so slightly with his breathing. “There are things you shouldn't know, yet you do. I, for one am sorry about that. My Father does not permit the altering of human memory, as free will is absolute. Still, you should not have been exposed.”

“I saw her...in a dream last night. It seemed like she was really _there._ ”

“Oh?”

“She had-wait, am I getting her in trouble?”

Amenadiel smirked, but it was gentle. “No. Souls in heaven are permitted to contact loved ones from time to time. Your conversation should be mostly private to yourselves. And it was real, though the depth and conciseness of contact varies from human to human. Your visitation could have been anything from perfectly clear to sporadic, depending on factors. Most of the time it comes through as more of a suggestion of contact than a real message. Yes, she is...fine. beyond that I cannot say. What do you call it? ‘Damage control.’” He glanced at the feather where Dan unknowingly dropped it. “I assume Lucifer had enough sense to have told you not to flash my feather around?”

“No! Yes! I mean.” Relief washed over him. “Thank you.”

“Was there anything else?”

From the floor, he looked past Amenadiel’s grey robes at Pierce's office. The agents inside had pulled out most of the file cabinet drawers, cataloguing, he guessed. “Was he really _Cain_?”

Amenadiel sighed, following his look. “Yes.” He squinted. “Who is in there?”

“FBI guys. They're looking into Pierce’s death. Agent Mac there thinks Pierce was murdered.”

Amenadiel turned, folding up his wings into his body and walked to peer through the window at the frozen activities. “Do they?” He cocked his head. “Cain kept notes on _us?”_

Dan shrank, hearing the voice rise in rage, even if he wasn’t at fault. “What?”

Instead of answering Dan, Amenadiel yanked the office door open. It crashed and bounced, vibrating in its’ frame. Before it slammed closed again, he was back, holding a thick _stack_ of papers. “ _Did you know about this?”_

 _Holy shit._ Fear dove deep into Dan, coiling around his stomach. Ice and molten lead replaced his heart, yet he felt it beating, hard. Amenadiel hovered over him like the wrath of God itself.

He shut down.

Amenadiel fished out a page. It was a photo of Maze, midair. She had to be twenty feet up, daggers out and face disfigured. “Do you have _any_ idea-! No, of course not. You didn't do this. Cain did.”

With a flick of his wrist, the _entire_ stack burned in a flash fire, the same as Lucifer had done with the broken feather. The light left afterimages in his retinas. It went up impossibly fast and burnt nearly fully, a few specks of ash hovering in the air, now caught by the time stoppage.

Dan was able to weakly protest a word he thought came out as ‘evidence…’ but more likely crawled out of his throat as a squeak. Amenadiel crouched, plucking his feather from the floor where Dan let it fall. Without a word, it flashed away to ash too.

Loss ate at him. He looked up hopelessly.

Something got through. Amenadiel breathed out, grasping Dan's wrist, but not ungently. “I'm sorry for that. I am. Perhaps a time in the future, I can replace that for you in some way. It's too risky for it to be loose in the world.”

He stood, his wings unfurling.

“Wait. Hang on.” Dan reached out, snagging the hem of the grey robe in front of him. He had no idea what he meant to do, but it wasn't that. “How did you know about me helping Lucifer?”

His indecision was written all over his face. “Charlotte. She asked me to watch you if I could.”

And there went his brain again. _Lucifer over him, in his arms. Black eyes inches away, inviting._

Amenadiel grunted, perhaps sensing a sensitive subject. “I don’t spy. I can pick up my brother’s mood from time to time, but for the most part I try not to. I saw you and Ella from outside, assisting him. That’s all. Lucifer chose to live in a house of windows, so that makes it easy to check on him without being obvious about it.” A look crossed his expression that told Dan he may have dropped by previously with terrible timing.    

Amenadiel relaxed a fraction of a degree, pity softening his face. “Were I human, I would owe you something. I am a form above yours, therefore I do not. However, do call me if you want to talk. I will answer if I can.” He started to turn away. “ _Were_ I human, and owed a favor to another human, I _would_ make the statement that I could bear a message back to a lost loved one. And that one would think long and hard first about what it should be.”

“Amenadiel!”

“Yes?”

He _really_ wanted to ask why Amenadiel ever needed bailing out of a jail cell. “Why am I suddenly less… affected by Lucifer?”

He frowned. “You shouldn’t be at all. Now that you’ve been exposed. He has power, of course, but now that your eyes are opened, his celestial influence on your mind is significantly reduced.” With a friendly chuckle, he added, “He can still throw you through a window if he decides to. Ella should also be less susceptible to his power of suggestion, as well as unaffected by his aura.”

“You mean, when he- uh.”

“Yes?”

“Nevermind.”

Amenadiel vanished.

Dan's knees had gone numb on the cold floor but he felt lighter than he had in ages.

* * *

 

The door to the office _slammed_ in its frame, vibrating. Mac blinked several times, but no one was there.

Barb yelped, dropping her cup of coffee all over the floor.

The file cabinet Mac had pulled open shuddered, the folders in the top drawer hanging limp. He could have sworn they moved.

_What the hell?_

He pushed the door open, catching Espinoza climbing to his feet, looking shaky. The Detective met his gaze, looking weirdly guilty. He looked at him, then the door, then back. “Are you pulling a bad prank, Detective?”

A few people stopped to look. Lopez turned from her walk, frowning.

Espinoza swallowed. “Uh, freak drafts come through here sometimes. Knocked me over.”

Mac saw several sheets under him, blown off his desk.

He growled, closing the office door again after Barbara scrambled off to grab paper towels.

He officially hated this place.

Mac turned back to the drawer he had opened first. He'd done a cursory pass of the office, visually scanning everything in the cabinets. This one looked particularly interesting.

Lt. Pierce had files on Morningstar. There were even folders with labels for ‘Amenadiel/Dr. Canaan’ whoever that was, along with one for Mazikeen Smith, whom he met just last night, assuming there was only one of those. He hoped. There were assorted other folders, some with single word names and a few with multiple names or titles that made next to no sense. All mystical sounding.

That’s all they told Mac, as they were all empty.

He silently prayed they were Pierce’s notes on an unpublished fantasy novel, but he didn’t think he was that lucky.

Mac pulled the entire drawer completely out of the file cabinet. The very last folder was unlabeled and shoved to the back of the drawer. Whoever emptied the cabinet pulled all the paperwork except from one, probably assuming it was empty. His moment of triumph crashed and burned in a pit of acid as he scanned the single item.

It was a simple one page form with a short description of events, an attractive woman’s photo clipped to the upper right corner, and a short open/close date.

The neatly typed words set up a bizarre scene.

_‘While ultimately unsuccessful, some things became apparent firsthand. Lucifer is able to take souls from Hell and send them more or less where he wants them to go. Abel ended up in the wrong body but I found out that the soul doesn’t travel directly. He didn’t explain the process and I was unable to ask, but it’s  proof that damned souls can escape, possibly without assistance, but he refuses to discuss it._

_Abel’s unfortunate sudden death did not remove the mark.’_

Pierce had scribbled in the margin - ‘Failure, Decker’. Mac recognized the handwriting.

_This was his life now._

Mac pulled a chair out and sat heavily, running a hand through his hair. Did Pierce _type_ this nonsense?

The sheet baffled him. No name was attached to the woman's photo. Nothing on the back. No indication of what made her relevant to the text. He would have to run it through facial recognition and who knew how long that would take to come back. Dead? Alive? How was she important?

_What the hell is ‘the mark?’_

Mac read and re-read the lines until they went blurry.

Someone tapped on the door frame.

Ms. Lopez frowned at him. “You okay? You haven't moved in like, twenty minutes.”

He rubbed his eyes. At least there wasn't a file folder for her, that he knew of. Unless she had a secret fake name too. _Hello there, ‘Eve.’_ He sighed, slipping the page into his growing case file of insanity and Bible references.  

 _What the hell._ “I don't suppose the name ‘Abel’ means anything to you?” Biblically, it was incredibly specific. The odds of someone being named Abel on purpose were pretty low. Lower even than Lucifer. As it turned out, more than one parent actually named their kid after the Devil in the last century.

She cocked her head. “Doesn't sound...familiar.” Her lips flattened. She was thinking about something.

 _Lucifer. Abel._ _Familiar. Family._ “Like code words or names for something? This person ‘Abel’ died?” He tapped his case bag, but didn’t take the file back out. “Maybe killed by his ‘brother’, ‘Cain’?” He chuckled but she tensed up.

“...Cain?”

 _She knows something_. This was some kind of a lead. He didn’t know what yet but all his instincts started screaming at him. There was a real connection between ‘Abel’ and whatever was happening here, whatever had happened to lead to Pierce’s murder. He would have to go look up Peirce’s family connections, see if there was a hidden brother or sister.

Mac rose to his feet, stretching after hunching over the desk. He picked an educated guess and ran with it like a horse taking up its bit and making for the hills. “Code names, right? Do you know who ‘Cain’ and ‘Abel’ were? Overhear anything you shouldn't have, maybe?” He fell into light tones he hoped were persuasive.

She shook her head after a second. “Those don't sound like Detective code names. But I'm not an undercover cop.”

“Well, you do have _Lucifer_ here. Was there a case recently that used Biblical references for code words? Places or suspects? Events maybe?” _Seen anything like Sodom and Gomorrah?_

She braced herself on the frame, deflecting. At least she was talking to him now, instead of at him. “Where did ‘Abel’ come from anyway?”

He shrugged. Turning back to the displaced file drawer, he selected a folder  and held the label up to her line of view.

Her neck twitched. “Lt. Pierce had files on _Amenadiel_?”

“Do you know him?”

“Not well, but I got to meet him. He’s like, super buff.”

Mac affected a casual tone. “Weird names. I have to admit, Lucifer has thrown me for a loop. Did he tell you he's the Devil too?”

She relaxed and rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, he tells everyone that.”

“Weird way to go about life. Seems like he'd get bored of it by now.”

She smiled a little. “I like it. He brings color to the workplace. Things would be boring around here without him.”

“So you don't believe him?”

She squinted. “Well...he works better when he's allowed to just be himself.”

“So you and your colleagues encourage him to embrace his...inner demons?”

“Oh, he just has the one outer demon.” She said it tongue-in-cheek.

Mac smiled a little. _Half the battle is knowledge. The other half is guessing and shooting in the dark. “_ Mazikeen _?_ I met her. Scary as all get out.”

Ella bit her tongue. “Do you believe him, then?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

Mac put on his best deadpan expression. “He showed me his horns.”

Ella's nervous smile cracked and she laughed. “Dude, excuse me, _Agent_ Dude, Lucifer doesn't have _horns_!”

 _Run with it._ “What does he have then?”

She clamped her lips, then smirked at him. “Definitely no hooves. I've seen his feet.” She leaned forward, raising her eyebrows. “And his cute behind. No tail. Do you need to know anything else about his fine bod?”

He winced. So much for that. “I guess not.”

“You must be running dry on Lt. Pierce’s murder if you're down to trying to find out if Lucifer is the _Devil_.”

“Well, he was _something_ before he came here. I just haven't figured out what. I am surprised that it doesn't seem to bother anyone here that he has no past before coming to work.”

Her eyes flicked down to his FBI badge.

“And no, he's not an undercover agent himself. And no, if he was, I couldn't tell you that, but trust me, he's not.” Jay wouldn't pull his leg _that_ hard. Not with a real murder of a high ranking officer at stake. He _wouldn’t_. Would he?

Lopez bit her lip. “If you say so.”

“Ms. Lopez, you wrote up the scene report yourself, correct? You were very thorough. I have something I want to ask you about, but I'd prefer to do so during an interview session. Do you have time later this afternoon? I understand most of the staff here is going to Mrs. Richards’ funeral.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Her attacker was never found, correct? More speculation on this so called Sinnerman who your officers have failed to catch?”

She swallowed. “Yeah. What do you want to ask me?”

Mac deliberately edged up part of the blurry photo out of his case, but didn't remove it. “Just some surveillance images from the day of the attack on Lt. Pierce. From outside the building.”

Her eyes went wide, and she took a half step towards him. “Oh? Do they show what came in through the window?”

“So you do think something came in from outside? Ten floors up?”

She froze again, quiet. “I don't know.”

 _Gotcha._ “I look forward to our interview later. Please give my regards to Mrs. Richards’ family; she was a real asset to this precinct.”

Lopez glared at him, pointing. “She was a _person_ , not an _asset_.”

“My mistake. She got a lot of...people of questionable character out of jail, didn't she?”

“Anyone can turn over a new leaf. She did.”

“ _Anyone?_ ” He looked at her gold cross around her neck. “Even the Devil?”

“Yeah, _even_ him. He got the short end of it, you know.”

“The Bible is pretty clear on Satan being unrepentant, irredeemable, not to mention, _evil_.”

Her whole body tensed. “Evil people don't save lives.”

“Even he doesn't think he's a _person_ though, does he?”

“It doesn't matter. He's not evil. He does good things here. He-” she ducked her head.

“Yes?”

“Nothing. He's a good...person.”

“Sure he is. He just can't stop _calling_ himself something unfathomably evil. Something he knows will be reactionary for grieving families of victims. A name that _deliberately_ invokes the worst assumptions about himself.”

Lopez huffed. “I need to go get ready for my friend's funeral.” She stalked off.

_Good, keep thinking I'm an unfeeling bastard._

It was days like this that made him really hate his job.


	8. Darkness and Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan attends Charlotte's funeral. Much angst is had.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to DarkStarius for Beta-ing this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy start of Nanowrimo! I hope to to be able to go a little crazier than usual this month.

At the last minute, Dan remembered he had cufflinks stashed in the glovebox of his car and twisted them on. He straightened the shirt cuffs with a sharp jerk and thought about Lucifer managing to look elegant every time he does it. Dan found the matching tie clip, trying to remember the last time he wore the things; it was either another funeral or someone’s wedding, probably.

He couldn’t recall when he bought them or for what occasion. They were just a few of the extra things men picked up at some point in their lives, then ignored the rest of the time. Unless that man happened to be Lucifer; likely having drawers full of matching cufflinks for every occasion.

Chloe ran into him outside the church, near the back of the parking lot. Her head had been down, and she hesitated in a stuttering stop in black heels when she saw him. He felt like a deer in headlights as she looked up and bit her lip.

The last time they were at a funeral, they were together, married. Maybe it was just muscle memory that prompted Chloe to come his way.

He quickly checked his tie in car window reflection then turned to her. “Hey. You look nice.”

She flattened her lips as if debating on speaking at all. She had been lost in thought too, her brain shifting back to reality behind her eyes. “You do too,” she gestured at the doors awkwardly, “want to sit together? Or will you be up front...?” She shifted her weight on her feet, not _quite_ shuffling.

He glanced away. “I had planned on sitting in the back. The Richards family…”

Her eyes softened a little. “Yeah. Sit with me. Look, I’m sorry I jumped down your throat this morning. The agents are all crawling up my ass, and I haven’t been myself since-” She snapped her jaw shut, remembering who she was talking to.

Dan met her eyes, his throat dry and words stuck there.

She took his expression for recrimination. “I know you haven’t either. I’m not trying to say-”

“I know,” his hands ended up in his pockets. “I know I'm not the only one here who misses her.”

“I'm sorry, about Charlotte. This mess. There are things I want to tell you, talk to you about,” she bit her lip again. “But some of it I can’t. Some of it will sound crazy.”

Dan swallowed. _Not here._ “We can talk about it later, Chlo’. I want to talk to you too.”

“About Charlotte? It’s related to her, sort of, but…” she looked up at the sky, frustrated. “There’s the investigation, and I know that the timing is bad, and I can’t tell you why.”

He looked around. They were more or less alone. Maybe they could keep each other from going insane. “Chloe, I know.”

“What?” her mouth turned down.

“The…’biggest truth.’ That you were trying to tell me or tell yourself. I know too. Now.”

Fear flashed across her eyes, tightening at the corners. “You do? How could you possibly know what I’m talking about?” She stepped closer. “Did he tell you _first?”_

He stiffened involuntarily. “Hey, no. I didn’t want to say anything right away, but I can’t talk to you again, and not say something. You should know that I know...who Lucifer is.”

She hissed, “and you’re, what, so okay with it that you jumped into his arms?”

His heart tried to climb into his throat. “I _didn’t_. I mean, I wasn’t trying to. Nothing happened. Not like that.”

Her head tilted slightly. “Oh? What did? I know it's not my business, but I thought…” she looked down, blowing out a huff.

“Ella and I-” he looked around, but the parking lot was far from full and he parked near the back. “We pulled bullets out of him. Some of them weren't easy to get to.”

A different fear crossed her face as her mouth fell open in disbelief. “What? Bullets? What do you mean? When was he shot? When I found him, he had holes blown out of his shirt, but not...”

 _Was it really possible she didn't know? She had one of the feathers! But Lucifer seemed surprised about it._ “He had six slugs buried in him, Chloe. How did you not know? I mean, I know he didn’t go walking around complaining about it, but you were _there-_ ”

She swallowed. “He took me to the roof, somehow, and I came to, there, by him. He left again. I don’t remember anything after being shot once in the chest, then coming around up there on the roof. He didn’t say he was hurt. He didn't tell me-” her hand climbed up her chest to rub where the vest protected her.

Dan internally moaned. _Lucifer didn’t say anything to Chloe. Because of course he didn’t._ He should have invited her to the penthouse to help. He shouldn’t have had to. Out loud, he said, “why didn’t he call you?”

Her face was pale and she held herself, arms crossed. “Six bullets? How? He’s,” she glanced down and away. “I didn’t know he was hurt. He left me on the roof, and when I found him back in the room where the attack happened, I saw him for who he was. I sat down on the stairs or maybe I collapsed. I didn’t see him kill... but he must have. Things went kind of blurry, and when I looked up again, I told him to get out of the scene, to leave so he wouldn’t be found there and be questioned. I think he grabbed a...knife.”

Dan rubbed his face. “And that was it? For some reason, most of the bullets, just bounced off him, but not those half-dozen?”

It was possible that more blood drained from her skin. “Most? What do you mean, most?”

“Chloe? Have you even read the scene report?”

“Honestly? No. I couldn’t. I couldn’t read a line of it without thinking of bodies and...and Marcus. I signed off on it because Ella typed it up, and I trusted her to get it right.”

“Marcus. The guy who-”

She looked daggers at him. “Who I was engaged to for a short period of time, yeah. It was a mistake. But seeing him there on the floor, his blood…”

Dan put a lid on his anger, but it wasn't easy. “Is that why you’re avoiding him? Or is he avoiding you? Lucifer?”

She eyed him, focusing on him for the first time all conversation. “I told him to stay away from me, as much as possible. We aren't working together right now because of the investigation. Last night was the first time I've had any kind of conversation with him in days.”

Dan felt his jaw trying to drop. He clamped it. “You told him to stay clear because you didn’t know he saved you? Or you didn't know that he got hurt doing it?”

Her brow pinched. “I didn’t know either of those things. Not really. And he looked...Dan, there’s no more room for playing around. He’s _the Devil._ ” she hissed again, her voice low and close.

 _How he looked? He looked gorgeous._ Dan coughed. “Yeah, I know, but-”

“But what? We've been working with him for years? He let me date a guy who, I don't even know what to think of that. Lucifer knew who he was. He could have-”

“What? Physically stopped you from going out with him?”

“Lucifer knew he was dangerous. He could have done things to steer me away instead of trying to out-Piece him. Hell, he could have been a voice of sanity reminding me I shouldn't have gone out with my damn boss.”

Dan just gave her a _look._

“I know...I acted like a desperate idiot. I knew all that already, but I just...ignored it. I ignored Lucifer; I ignored my better sense. I don't even know why. But it's done now, and the insane part only just started.”

“What was that about out-Piercing?”

She looked at her feet again. “I feel ridiculous. Lucifer tried to give me a car. It felt like...he only wanted me to be with him because Marcus wanted me. We were supposed to be _friends_. It feels like, like…”

Dan's heart caved in on itself a little. Lucifer didn't do half-measures. “Like what?”

“If you were anyone else...it feels like he set the whole thing up. All of it. The Devil doesn't need a _job,_ Dan.” She looked at the ground again. “I know it sounds dumb and paranoid, but look what we're dealing with. I'm not ready to work with him again. I can't right now.”

His head spun. She had points. A _car?_ Weakly, he said, “I guess you’ve had a few more days to think about it than I have, huh?”

Chloe nodded warily. “A few, yeah. It sounds like you got some kind of warning though, judging by how well you’re taking this. Or maybe it just hasn’t hit you yet. I still don't think it's really sunk in for me.”

He played with one of his cufflinks. “Maybe a little bit of both. It was really Ella who figured out that something crazy happened at the scene of the murder. Something that couldn’t be explained by science. That something had to be supernaturally strong to do what it did. What he did,” he hoped he didn't sound strained.

She leaned on his car, her crossed arms in a black jacket a lot like his, both in white shirts. She bit her lip. “Yeah. Murdering someone does take a lot of physical strength.”

That stopped him. Mac had thought as much. He hadn’t asked Lucifer what happened there. “You don’t think it was self-defense?”

“No. I don’t. Lucifer is...Lucifer. Who could hope to defend themselves against that powerful?”

Dan swallowed. “But, you said he tried to kill you, both of you.”

“That’s why we have a justice system, Dan.”

“But Marcus...was Cain.”

“I guess we won’t know that for sure since he’s dead. Something that was supposedly around since the beginning of time? And _now_ he's dead.” She shook herself. “I once saw a man jump off a roof to get away from Lucifer. Now I have to ask myself exactly what happened that night.”

Dan crossed his arms, matching her. “What do you think happened?”

Her voice was hard and soft at the same time. “He was so scared he couldn't do anything except try to get away. And he killed himself because of it. If that much it true, it's as good as murder.”

“what did you think happened? At the time?”

“I thought he just didn't want to be caught.”

Dan stood a moment. “Isn't that the same result though? Police versus...something?”

“That man might still be alive, if not for Lucifer.”

His throat hurt. “Maybe it's just what you said. He didn't want to get caught. Lucifer doesn’t lie.”

“Doesn’t he?”

A car door slamming nearby startled them. A child squealed loudly, shattering his focus. A family Dan didn’t know passed by, walking softly and whispering. The father figure, whoever he was, glared at them both.

 _Not now._ “Can we go inside for now? Pick this up later?”

She rolled her shoulders. “We can try.”

* * *

Dan sat, tense. Chloe sat next to him in the hard polished pew, but not close. Her body posture screaming that she would rather renege on her deal to sit together.

He eyed the ubiquitous wooden pocket in front of him, paced out every five or so feet with a few hymn books and Bibles, some dog-eared and from the last century. He knew the wooden holders on the backs of the pews had a name but he couldn’t remember what. He opted not to Google it. The place smelled faintly of old books and not-quite-bleached mildew.

He felt how Trixie looked in church, shifting his weight and waiting. One or two people from the police station nodded to him and Chloe. The family members who knew him more or less ignored him and he tried not to take it personally. It wasn’t like he really knew them well either, even if he’d hoped to. It occurred to him that Chloe probably got some flack just from being next to him.

He didn’t look too hard up front, but his fears were confirmed. It was an open casket.

Dan bit his tongue. Chloe sensed something because she looked over. In the few minutes they'd sat there, she calmed a little. “Hey, you okay?”

He breathed shallowly. “I should have listened to- I shouldn’t have come. I hate funerals.”

She followed the line of his gaze. “Oh,” she slid over and squeezed his wrist gently. “Do you want to go?”

“I don’t know.” He felt his chest squeeze. He hadn’t had anything like a panic attack before in his life, but he’d seen them happen to other people. He was grateful he couldn't see her blonde hair from here. Did they make her face up like she wore it at work? She liked to put a little dab of white at the corners of her eyes. Did they do that?

_That’s not her. She’s not there. That’s not her._

_Then why am I even here?_

He thought about what Charlotte said in the dream and looked past the soulless wooden box. _She might come._ “No, I’ll...I’ll stay. For now.”

“You didn’t get a chance to say goodbye before. I’m sorry. Did…” she leaned a little closer. “Did Lucifer talk to you about her?”

“Yeah. He said she’s in Heaven. He said I should skip this thing.” He shouldn't feel bitter, but he did.

She didn’t say anything for a minute. “We can still leave.”

 _What if she was here? She’d just see him crying._ He sighed. “I’ll stay. As long as her brother doesn’t give me too many dirty looks. Thanks though.”

Chloe let go of his wrist sometime during the service. Someone sang a song. Someone else sang after that, later, to the piano.  

It became painfully evident that the man conducting the service didn’t know who Charlotte really was. His heart hollowed out listening to him, wanting to yell and fill in the gaps. The preacher glanced down from time to time at notes the family probably gave him. He got one thing right, or two. She was a good mother, and she was waiting in heaven.

Only according to the preacher, Charlotte and her ex-husband were waiting for their kids and hanging out with her mother and father. With her ex-husband's mother and father.

Dan had no place here.

Chloe put a hand on his shoulder and he realized he was leaking tears.

He didn’t feel Charlotte at all. He hoped she could show up. Maybe she didn’t want to be here either. He wouldn't blame her.

Dan realized the preacher had gone off on some tangent. He tuned back in to words that filtered through him with rising ire as he paid more attention to them as he droned on. The man used his pulpit like a mallet. Or maybe an auction block. “ _Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting_.”

Dan tensed. The man spoke of wings, metaphorically, but all he could see were Lucifers. If the preacher only knew where Dan had been last night. However briefly, whose arms he had been embraced by. The imagery of the man's head violently exploding at finding out brought a tight smile to his lips. _Darkness and Light. You have no idea._ The idea of God stalking him in heaven, or anywhere else for that matter, however, was less comforting.

 _‘Offensive’? I'll give you offensive._ But he let it go, stopping himself before throwing out an angry mental jab at ‘Dad’ just in case _He_ decided to answer it. Better not risk it.

He knew what happened here. The preacher was using Charlotte's very funeral to get more church members. Chloe gave him a side glance full of understanding, her lips flat and eyes angry, but neither of them able to voice displeasure. She clasped his hand and squeezed hard, trying to convey her thoughts.

Finally, _finally,_ the preacher called for any last people who wanted to speak. Dan wanted to stand up, to tell them how beautiful she was. How she smiled in the morning before he made them waffles. How determined she was at work to do good things, to turn her life around. How fiercely she loved her children.

He wanted to share real things about her.

He didn’t go up. Besides being mostly unwelcome, he would go no closer to the casket. The preacher whose name he didn’t catch ended the service with the Lord's Prayer - “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”

Dan got up and slipped out while everyone else bowed their heads.

* * *

The sun glittered in the bright blue sky overhead. Dan lightly touched Charlotte’s gravestone. It was cold.

He had waited until everyone had left, following the line of cars to the cemetery, but not going up until the family had all gone again. He brought a white rose to throw into the hole in the ground, on top of other flowers. The casket wouldn’t be covered with dirt until later.

There were a lot of flowers.

Dan sat on one of the folding chairs, pulling it out from under the portable canvas and folding metal awning. There were so many people at the service; he couldn't separate her friends from her family by a visual scan. It was one more thing that separated him from them.

Everyone came to pay respects and then left again after an appropriate amount of time, moving forward with their lives while her shell was left behind.

_She’s not here. She’s not here. She’s…_

_She's here._

Dan looked up, feeling a presence, but it was faint. He climbed back to his feet, standing next to her stone again. It might be a little stronger here.

A warm hand set atop his on her cold marble stone. It was no more than that. He let his eyes fall closed and sought it.

Feeling only a little silly, he asked aloud, “Charlotte?”

The warmth squeezed his hand. And then it was gone.

He knelt and cried against her grave.

* * *

When enough time passed, Dan started to stir again. The sun had moved in the sky. He didn't want to get up. He wanted to just stay here and be made into stone.

A flicker of flashing white caught the corner of his vision. Warmth unrelated to the sun in the sky touched him, from a safe distance. Dan unfroze a little, aware the wings tucked away again swiftly. “Lucifer?”

A warm palm reached over and squeezed his shoulder, but he didn’t look up. “Daniel?”

He wiped his eyes but they’d long been dry again. “I thought you hated these things.”

“I do.”

“Why did you come?”

“You called me.”

“I did?”

The Devil snorted. “You should know, shouldn’t you?” he looked down at the elaborate white marker, named and dated. Some script was on the bottom edge but Dan didn’t read it, no doubt picked by her religious brother. Lucifer didn’t speak for a minute or two, then gave up on expecting a response from Dan. He added, “hardly seems necessary, does it?”

Dan finally commented, “I don’t think she would have wanted it done this way. Any of it. You were right. I wanted to punch the preacher in the face.”

Lucifer shrugged, he’d heard it before. “I’d say that others have said that violence never solves anything, but they’d be wrong, at least some of the time.” After a moment of awkward silence, he said, “the stone is lovely work. They employed an artist for her.”

Dan fought an urge to touch Lucifer. _Darkness and Light._

He shook it off, just grateful for the presence of him there, pushing aside his other problems to deal with them later. “Hey, when I go, burn me up like one of those feathers and scatter my ashes somewhere interesting. Like orbit or the moon or something. Would you do that for me? It’ll save Trixie from having to pay for something like this.”

The Devil cocked his head. “If that’s what you want, certainly.” His expression remained somewhat flat like he wasn't even sure why he came.

Dan broke his gaze on the ground to look over. “Really?”

Lucifer played with the idea. “Yours could be the first human DNA on Mars if you want that. Well, human ash anyway. No idea if they could get DNA out of it or not. You’d have to ask Ella.”

He found that...appealing. “You don’t think we’ll make it to Mars in my lifetime?” _Trixie wanted to be President of Mars. Maybe one day she'll find him there._

“Daniel, you lot will be supremely fortunate if you don’t annihilate yourselves back to the stone age in the next hundred years. Could still surprise me though.”

Dan decided not to ask how much of that was a joke. “You don’t know everything then? DNA and genetic science?” he stretched his legs. Lucifer wore a black suit today, with a sky blue square. He looked like he could have worn it for the funeral today. The square was the color of Charlotte’s eyes. Dan broke himself away, focusing on the present before he got sad again.

Lucifer was speaking again, “not fiddly bits like that. Perhaps I should raid a University textbook store or library. Haven’t done that in ages, get caught up on some things. I can absorb new information quite easily, but if I don’t need to…” he shrugged.

“Thanks for coming,” he started to feel silly, hanging out on the torn up grass, so he got up. “I should have skipped the service, but Charlotte swung by after all.”

Lucifer wore a sad smile. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Me too. It wasn’t much though, but I’m sure it was her.” he brushed the bits of grass off his butt.

“It usually isn’t. It wouldn’t have been a full visual, contrary to ghost-hunting shows, souls rarely exist on earth at all.”

“I guess I was hoping for more, but it sounds kind of selfish to even want that much.” he sighed. You thought I called you?

“You did call me. I don’t come to these things voluntarily. Didn’t realize you were _here_ , but I suspected.”

And he came anyway. Dan didn't know why he said the next thing, but it just popped out, “you should talk to Chloe.”

Lucifer's mood darkened. “And why is that?”

Dan licked his lips. “Because you're friends. At least.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me.”

Dan felt wrung out. Emotionally and physically drained past capacity of any rational thought. He was tired of everyone walking on pins and needles. “Fine.” He wanted to ask about Cain. He wanted to ask about the distance between Lucifer and Chloe. He didn't have the fucks left to do so.

Lucifer made to leave. “Well, if you're done with me?”

Dan looked over, the sudden realization that Lucifer might take off again so soon making him move again. “Wait, uhm, hang on, how are you? You're better, right? You said you would be?”

Lucifer huffed but didn’t unfurl his wings to leave immediately. “Well, at least someone cares. Much better. All healed up and right as rain again.” His expression didn't change much, still wary.

 _Auuggh._ “Are you free later?”

“As free as I ever am.”

“I'd really like to get stupid drunk tonight. Or something. Preferably with company.”

“What? No one else you'd prefer to get wasted with? You can't keep up with me you know.”

_I can die trying._

_Damn, Dan, stop being morbid._ “My friends are all basically coworkers and I can't talk to them about this. The rest are parents of Trixie's friends, and, well…”

Lucifer sighed, “I'm surprised at myself for saying this, but it's not the best idea.”

Dan rubbed his face, looking at Lucifer through his fingers. “Seems like a good idea right now.”

“It won't in the morning. I've seen it thousands of times.”

 _Literally._ “Fine. What do you suggest?”

Lucifer thought about it. “How about a good old fashioned run of some violent movies and a _reasonable_ quantity of alcohol?”

“That sounds...like a plan.”

“Doubtless you'll disapprove of it, but I have substances to choose from. Mind you, I probably won't bring out the good stuff. Drop by tonight or don't. If you don't, I have my regular duties at Lux. I know it seems to be all glamorous, but I have a staff to look after, at least touch base with.”

_‘The Devil doesn't need a *job* Dan.’_

_Maybe he does._

* * *

 

Officer Gallard looked quizzically at Mac as he started to leave for the day. “Hey, you forgot to sign out those stacks of notes from Pierce’s office. You guys are usually the ones crossing all the t's. You mind taking care of this?”

And here Mac thought he would get out of the precinct at a reasonable time today. He was pretty sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “Which ones?”

The officer tapped the sheet. “Top file cabinet, the main one. Had labels for…” he trailed off with a huffed, “oh, _that_ one. Morningstar, and some others. Real interested in that one, I gotta say.”

Mac froze, double-checking his brain for discrepancies. “That one was empty, except for the folder tabs. I distinctly remember because that was the weirdest drawer out of the whole office.”

The officer just looked at him doubtfully. “It certainly wasn't empty a few days ago. We have a sheet here that says there were several items in that drawer to go through. If you didn't sign them out, then I certainly don't know who did. Aren't you the lead agent on this thing?”

“Who cataloged it? Which agent? I was interviewing people the first day or so. I only found one thing in the whole drawer, and it was under everything else. I put that in my notes.”

“Here, uhm, Agent Hale.”

Mac didn't know him that well. Half the people on this job were stationed locally. Did Lucifer have FBI agents under his sway too? He shook off the paranoia. If that were the case, those items wouldn't have even been noted in the first place. Someone else got them, or God-willing, they're just misplaced. He really hoped for the latter, as he had been pondering their possible contents all day long. “I'll get this sorted out.”

Gallard twitched. “Some of us were really hoping you’d find something by now.”

“On your deceased Lieutenant?”

“Morningstar. He’s under investigation too, right?”

“You don't sound too fond of your resident Devil.”

He looked like he regretted saying anything. “He's not exactly...conventional. He can recite any of our police handbooks front to back, but try holding him to any of it…”

Mac sensed an opportunity, hating himself a little for it, but he had a job to do. “Well, he's not really _police_ material, is he? He didn’t attend the Academy. Hasn’t really done anything else.” That much was no secret.

The officer licked his lips. “He has been...helpful with the work. Sometimes.”

“I'm sure he has been useful. At least as much as other civilian consultants? I mean, it’s not like he’s wasting everyone’s time, right?”

“People like to talk to him. _Everyone_ likes to talk to him. He's like a damn magnet. Makes it useful when we question suspects.”

“Everyone huh?”

He snorted. “My ex-girlfriend included. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together should keep their significant others out of the precinct. Most do, because of him.”

“Yeah?”

“I wouldn't feel too bad if he got reassigned to another precinct is all I'm saying. You married?”

“Yeah, I am. Happily.”

“Well, don't bring your spouse around. You'll either have to get open-minded real quick or look the other way. I dumped my ex. I'm not the only one either. Guy has been around here for years; I'm amazed anyone here is still married.”

Mac affected a dismissive attitude, watching him, “oh, come on. He can't be that bad. Your ex had to be out of your league already or something.”

Gallard winced but didn’t get angry. “Nah, she was nice looking, but not _that_ nice. I can do better than a cheater anyway. He probably saved me a few months of a bad relationship, honestly.”

 _Ass._ “Hmm. Were other marriages, relationships already doomed to failure?”

“Well, when you put it _that_ way...okay, I work with my brother-he’s in another precinct though. He dated this guy, brought him around one day. Lucifer swooped in and invited them to his club. He suggested the three of them could go upstairs to his place.” Gallard looked sour, but his need for vengeance seemed to be winning over his desire to keep family out of it.

“Yeah?”

He looked away. “His boyfriend experimented with...pharmaceuticals, but my brother didn't-”

“Oh, of course. What officer would?”

“And they broke up a few weeks later anyway. Dude was probably trouble.”

“Ah, makes sense. Good to hear he moved on from that loser. Once a user…”

Gallard warmed up to his story. “Sure, John could have turned his boyfriend in, but it was a one-time thing and he wasn't even sure he saw it happen. I mean, I assume it was. My brother doesn’t have the best taste in men, but he doesn’t date total assholes. But he didn’t arrest the guy he was dating, even if he should have. I mean, I would have.”

 _What an ass_. “Not even witnessing it? Yeah, it wouldn't even hold up in court, I'm sure of that.” But it would help. ”Drugs would have been right back out of his system pretty quick. And no one wants to turn in someone they like, even if they’re not a good person.”

The officer nodded enthusiastically. “See? Exactly. If you tested John today, nothin’ would show up. No point in even trying.”

“Sure, it's not like he used any _himself_. But, you were saying before, Lucifer supplied it?”

“I mean, it came from somewhere. He didn't _sell_ it.” Officer blank looked hesitant. I mean, if I knew laws were being broken, or money changing hands, I would have said.”

 _Dirty cop. Damn._ “Okay, sure. _You_ weren't there. Just John. And I'm sure he didn't say anything until long after he and his lousy boyfriend broke up. Think John could get another invitation to help things along? Maybe get this jerk’s contact information?”

Gallard's eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah. And don’t you forget who pointed you his way.”

 _Oh, I won’t._ “Thanks. Is any other evidence missing? Or was it just that drawer of items that someone signed out accidentally?”

“Oh, um.” he checked his sheets. “No, I don’t think so, but the Lieutenant’s personal belongings from the house haven’t been claimed yet. No family members have shown up for any of it. It’s a decently nice place too, I’m kind of surprised. Not that I would know what they’d do with the rock collection. We’ll probably be stuck disposing of it.”

 _Huh._ “Did he ever talk about his family?”

“Nah, he barely talked about anything ever. Other than work. He did mention once that his brother was murdered, but he never discussed it.”

Mac knew for a fact Pierce didn’t have a brother. He didn’t seem to have anyone, actually, but Eric assumed he just hadn’t filled out personal forms and would uncover something sooner or later. People don’t live in total vacuums. Maybe he should try asking Decker if Pierce ever talked about his family, find some other way to wedge into her head. He didn’t have a listed next of kin, or an insurance beneficiary. Mac made a note to look into the possibility it was a fake name. That would suck balls.  “How about his girlfriend? He ever talk about Detective Decker?”

“Nah. I didn’t even know they were dating until she showed up with the ring.” Gallard didn’t look pleased.

“Big rock huh?”

He made a non-committal noise. “Good thing my current girlfriend didn’t see it.”

“Oh hey, anything, religious? He ever seem to have a personal thing with Lucifer because of the name? I heard some people did.”

Gallard made a face at the name again. “Nah, they were closer than I would have liked, actually. Talked a lot.”

“Arguments?”

“A few, yeah.” He perked up, “oh, yeah, actually, the night before he died, I was part of the detail that hauled Morningstar out of Pierce’s office. Don’t know why he wasn’t banned then and there, whatever happened, but the lieutenant didn’t have time to file paperwork the next day. Weird, huh? They get in a fight and the lieutenant is dead the next day?”

“Yeah, I don’t remember anyone noting that.” _And they wouldn't have since everyone here seems to hate paperwork with the hatred of a thousand hells._

“It was pretty informal, but I can get you the names of the other guys with me.”

“That would be helpful, yes.” _Very._


	9. Crashing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe says things she needed to say. So does everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my tireless Beta, Just_Mad_Enough for giving this the attention it deserves. Plus GlitterSkullFairy and Darkstarius for additional input. I'm really happy with this chapter and I hope you are too.
> 
> Sorry for a late update but I feel like I literally wrestled with angels getting this one right.
> 
> __________________________________________

Lucifer stared at the phone on his bar, feeling pulled in different directions.

 _'You should talk to Chloe'_.

What for? He survived five years of L.A. just fine before he met her, _thank-you-very-much_.

He ran his tongue over his teeth. Emotions caused so many problems. His own, running rampant with jealousy he had no right to claim. Not after the beach the year before. Not after the resignation with which he gave her the necklace. He had no regrets at the time, doing so. He knew when he made that statement he was giving up on calling her his own.

Their friendship was enough. More than enough. He'd told himself that shortly after she turned him down-and he meant it. He told her he wasn't worthy of her and meant it.

What happened?

She stopped wearing the bullet necklace after going out with Pierce. As if Cain couldn't even tolerate her friendships. Maybe he couldn't. Didn't. The Detective he knew that first year together wouldn't have put up with that kind of nonsense, Cain shoving her around. Making demands of her time and person as if he owned her.

Maybe she liked it.

Chloe hadn't been the Detective he'd known recently. Who knew?

_Humans. Did they all do this?_

Maybe what he felt wasn't love at all, just grief, grasping at the loss of her presence after having her all to himself. As partners, as colleagues, as co-workers.

As friends.

It's not like he had experience with love. He thought he had a taste of it, before he knew she was a miracle.

It wasn't that he had a particular problem with Cain tearing her clothes off ( _shudder_ ) it was that she spent so much bloody _time_ with him. Chloe deserved someone who could see to her wants and needs. Not that he thought Cain was it. He didn't expect them to last. Lucifer expected she would date _someone_ again, but he hadn't counted on how much time relationships consumed. She didn't love and leave. She didn't do casual encounters.

Who had he known in a long-term relationship anyway?

Linda divorced, Charlotte divorced, _hell_ , Chloe was also divorced. Ella probably had an ex-husband too for all he knew. Of course, they were all happier for it. Perhaps he was the one who had the right idea all along, a night of pleasure and then it was time to leave before anything had time to sour, for the gild to rub off the lily.

Everyone who had ever seen his Devil face ran away. Only this time, she told _him_ to run. It amounted to the same thing.

_Get away from me._

She wasn’t _afraid_ of him. At least, he couldn’t smell any fear on her. She hadn’t told him not to come to work.

She hadn’t texted him either.

The phone jumped on the bar with a buzz.

Lucifer snatched it up more quickly than he intended to. The text was just from one of his many favor-swapping humans. Nothing important. He pushed the phone away, debating on another cigarette before work. Before putting on his human costume once again.

Maybe he _should_ drag out the good stuff tonight. Even if Daniel didn’t turn up.

Still, he had other friends, humans who liked him. Perhaps he needed a vacation from his holiday, take a few weeks at one of his other properties until the FBI gave up and left.

The phone jumped again, this time with a more welcome contact. _Speak of the Forensic Scientist._ It was just a few lines of text, but Ella asked how he was.

He responded, happy for the distraction, “ _much improved. Yourself?”_

_“(Smiley faces and hearts) just making sure you're okay. Missed you today at work. It's not the same here without you.”_

_“You're bored, aren't you, dear? Gotten a taste of the Devil's company and you find yourself longing for it.”_

There was enough of a pause that he suspected she was giggling. _“Just bored. But you do make my life more interesting.”_

_“Anything on your mind, love?”_

_“Thinkin about opening a side business. Maybe sell cookies. Or just cookie dough. In buckets. What do you think?”_

_“Are you seeking an investor? This sounds intriguing.”_

_“If we never get a new case, I wouldn't turn one down. I don't have a thing to do!”_

_“You need a good name. Have you got one?”_

_“Chips Passing in the Night. How's that? It would be midnight delivery only.”_

Lucifer grinned. Ella gave him hope in humanity. “ _Sounds limited.”_

 _“Veey exclusive. You know how that goes. Plus, easier to keep the doug cold if I dont have to keep it around long. I might have to figur out how to not use raw eggs, but raw batter is soooooo good.”_ A second later she added an irritable comment about autocorrect.

“ _Well, I know a thing or two about raw batter._ ”

“ _Ha. I bet you do. Can you pasteurize it without altering the flavor?”_

_“You know, I can't say I've tried cooking it.”_

_“Well, we know you can't get sick from ‘that' kind of raw batter, at least not that way. Stop messing with my science brain. You'll make me get in trouble at work_ _for abuse of lab equipment_.”

“ _It's not *my* fault you're chatting up the inventor of temptation at this hour.”_

_“I guess I only have myself to blame. And my oven which seems to be on the fritz. Thus, raw batter. I was gonna bring in homemade cookies tomorrow but it looks like it'll be gladiator-style battles over a bowl of dough.”_

Lucifer snickered. “ _I could talk for days about Roman games. Much preferred the orgies.”_

_Parts of that I want to hear about. I'm gonna bug my neighbor and see if I can use his oven. Plus, he's hot.”_

_"Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”_

He mentally thanked her for not asking about anything else. Ella was the breath of fresh air he needed tonight.

Alone in his penthouse, Lucifer picked up his jacket by the collar and turned to the elevator. He dropped his phone in his pocket, intending to make a quick circuit of the club, show his face for a few minutes. He already decided to keep himself from being overly occupied, just in case.

Was he hoping Daniel would turn up? Granted, once one ended the night covered in bodily fluids, it tended to alter a relationship. It just wasn't the kind of mess he enjoyed. He told himself he just wanted to finish what he started. He didn't like to leave things incomplete.

Daniel _was_ rather nice to look at. There were times a fit, muscular body was much nicer to hang onto than a slight, feminine one. There were plenty of times the opposite was also true.

Lucifer called his elevator, absently wondering why it wasn't on his floor, distracted by pleasant thoughts of grey eyes and strong hands.

As he waited a step away, the doors opened.

Chloe’s brilliant blue eyes snapped up to meet his, surprise on her face at him being within arms’ reach. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, resting over an old jacket down her back.

His chest filled with...something, weighing at him.

They looked at each other for a long moment. The doors started to close again, and they slapped the edge of the door at the same time, their hands meeting.

She flinched, drawing back.

He tried not to let it affect him. “Come in, Detective? You know you’re always welcome.”

Chloe nodded, stepping past him like a deer in a meadow. “Thanks.”

A knot formed in his throat. “What can I do for you? Would you like a seat? A drink?” He thought it best not to mention this was the first he’d seen her in a closed setting since the attack.

Her mouth opened, then closed again. She looked at him as if he might vanish into thin air. “Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?! Are you okay? What happened to you? Where did you go? Why haven't you talked to me?”

“You're mad.”

“I'm _furious_!”

Lucifer recoiled, dropping his jacket on the bar counter. “Well, I can see my inclinations were correct, as you clearly just dropped by to yell at me.”

Chloe stepped closer, lips flat but softening. “I didn't come to yell. I can be mad, and scared and worried all at the same time!”

He winced at each emotion. “There was no need to worry you further after things settled down.”

“Why did _Dan_ help you? I could have done that.”

“He and Ella tracked me down. Perhaps if they'd found me immediately, I would have turned them away. I was tired, hadn't slept and honestly thought I'd heal on my own. Alright?”

She stared at him, his eyes, not moving. She breathed out of her nose. “I'm glad _someone_ helped you. I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't ask me. I didn't know...that you were hurt.”

He shuffled a little. “You weren't awake for the attack at all, were you?”

“I don't remember you getting shot. I just remember how you looked…”

“You weren't supposed to see that.”

Chloe leaned on the back of a chair. “Before that, I remember falling. And you...caught me. Didn't you?”

He nodded. Now _he_ felt like he wanted to bolt.

“You saved me. And you're the Devil.”

He nodded again, mouth dry, waiting for her to flee, forgetting in the moment she came up to see him.

She played her fingers against each other. “And then he was dead, and you were standing over him. Did you know how dangerous he was? That he would have so many men there? You told me who he was. After everything…”

“I knew he should be long dead, instead of recently.”

“Why wasn't he?”

“Dead? Cain was cursed to walk the earth for all eternity. But apparently, there's always a loophole. A possibility of pardon. Dad has an out for everyone but me, it seems. Well, until you die and then you're usually stuck in one afterlife or another.”

“What...what loophole?”

Lucifer looked everywhere but at her. “Cain fell in love with you. He became mortal again. He wanted to die, to cease to exist, until he became involved with you. He came here for me, but stayed for you.”

“And he thought you could help with that? Dying? Was he serious? That's not what happened during the attack though, was it?”

“I didn't, at first. He kept coming back to life in the early attempts. I'm afraid my end of the offer to help was ineffective. I had to break the deal.”

Chloe shook her head. “And then, what, he suddenly didn't? After all this time, I was the reason he wanted to live instead of _having_ to live? Being forced by...God? To not die, or I assume, age?”

He felt heavy. “Cain loved you. I never thought he would hurt you.”

Her voice came harsh. “You let me take that risk. Knowing what he was.”

“To my knowledge, he hadn't been any kind of _villain_ in thousands of years. I thought, perhaps, if he could be a better person, become someone you wanted…” he fell silent.

“You both used me.”

“Detective…”

“I...loved him. And you thought I could be your redemption?”

“Chloe, I didn't come to L.A. to stop being who I was, what I am. I can't run from that part of me. I left Hell behind, but not _me._ There's no path back to heaven for me, but I had hope that I could find something good here. And I found that in you, in your companionship, if nothing else.”

“Lucifer…” she reached out to touch his hand. “You were my friend. What happened?”

_The very question._

He sighed. “Sinnerman. Dad. Who knows. I didn't react well to Cain appearing. Didn't know where he'd been before he turned up here. Didn't need to know. Our paths were separate.”

She took her hand back. “He thought he was becoming a better person? With me?”

“He changed in the time I knew him. I have no idea if he meant it. But, he seemed sincere about you. And I can't make your choices for you. Nor could I make his.”

Chloe was silent for a moment. “I miss you, seeing you around, but I don't know how or what to think right now. I need time. I need to be alone, I hope you know I won't stay angry at you, at least I don't plan on it.”

Lucifer tried, and failed, not to look hopeful.

“I just can't think about this, you, us. Just tell me you haven't been here just to get me to fall for you.”

That much he could affirm, his own mind. “No, I enjoyed, I _enjoy_ your company. I never expected that. You spent all your time with _him_ and it felt…”

“I didn't abandon you, Lucifer. That's what happens when people form close relationships with each other. You saw the end of mine with Dan, and that was him and I spending less and less time together. Marcus was...stable, I thought. He wasn't the nicest guy I ever dated, but he was…” she pursed her lips, trying to pin down a specific quality. “I was about to say he reminded me of Dan, but only superficially.”

 _Well, they both were built like a brick house._ “I don't get you humans. Never really have.” Lucifer focused on her. “What are you going to do now? What would you ask of me?”

“...I have to think of Trixie. She loves you, dearly, and I think I do too. But I can't be…”

His heart hurt, but at least she wasn't running. He offered what he knew was in her head. He expected nothing else as it was. “In love with the Devil?”

She bit her lip. She didn't deny it. “Can we go back to the beginning? Or a little later when we were friends? We were so good together, as partners. I miss your insights and, I can't believe I'm saying this, your jokes too.”

“Of...of course.” And there was relief. Not shutting him out. And that's what he wanted again. Her presence.

She smiled, just a little. “Come back to work soon, okay? I know it's crazy. I know you don't need the paycheck.”

“Oh, I don't get paid. Not by the LAPD.”

“You're kidding. You _realize_ that makes you a little stalker-y right?” her eyebrows went up, but it wasn't with concern.

Lucifer shrugged. “Since coming to earth, I have created the means to finance my wants and needs.”

“Not all of them legal?”

“Technically? No, not really. Hopefully you won't find it a cause to arrest me. Not after looking the other way for years of my activities. I'm not a drug lord.”

Chloe frowned slightly - he wasn't wrong, necessarily, but he sounded sure of himself. “What _are_ you getting out of this, exactly?”

He felt his eyebrows raise a bit. “Out of what?”

“Being in L.A.?”

He walked back to the bar for his glass. “I’ve told you before, Detective. I’m on holiday.”

Her mouth worked, annoyance creeping in to her words. “So, we’re all, what, a vacation to you?”

He sighed through his nose. “You try running Hell for thousands of years and see if you like it. Actually, don't, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Except maybe Cain. Maybe he can take over now.”

She grumped. “Is it possible for you to be serious? Ever?”

“It’s possible, yes.”

Chloe rubbed her face. “Are you real?”

“I am 100 percent sure that I’m real. What’s on your mind, Detective?”

She leaned on the back of his couch, resting her hands on the cushions. “Lucifer.” The name came out of her mouth like she was tasting it.

He cocked his head to the side, half-wishing he really was a Jedi. Reading minds would make things much easier.

She watched him. “Why me?”

Lucifer risked taking a step closer to her. She looked up at him. He said, “why-”

“Don’t.”

He stopped, considering. “My Father had a hand in your creation. I thought that’s why I was drawn to you. Why I’m...vulnerable when you’re close by.”

She was smart. He knew she was. He let her work it out herself.

Her eyes snapped up to his. “When I shot you.”

“Yes. Only you have that power.”

“ _I’m_ the only one who can hurt you. By being around you. Why would you risk that?”

“Because…”

“Don't say it was because you loved me. We would be circling back to the stalker-y thing. And I really don't want you to be that. Give me reasons.”

He thought about it. "Because at first, the risk was intoxicating. I had not felt that _alive_ in years. I can't tell you what immortality is like, but the only danger in the universe is my family. But then, the more I was around you, the more I felt like I could be... something more that an ex-ruler of Hell. A bored Devil. I am as doomed as Cain was, but here on earth, I have...friends. Real ones. You and others. I realize now that I ask too much of you, that it's impossible now, as I always knew it would be. I understand you can't ‘be with the Devil’ but it doesn't mean I'll stop caring about you. Or stop desiring your company. Even if Dad put you in my path, I wouldn't want to walk it without you, whatever the outcome. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I behaved as if you were an obsession, rather than my partner.”

Chloe stood quietly and something had broken, like a dry scab pulled off a healing wound. “Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't make time for you when I was with Marcus. I didn't realize it affected you that much. It seemed like you were trying to win a contest. It seemed like...you only wanted me away from him, not... _with_ you.”

She smiled again, a little stiff. “I don't know what you have gone through. I can't pretend to. Friends or as work partners, I need you to give me some space and I don't know for how long. I care about you too, but, I can't say I'm not a little scared too. Dan said...he said...he pulled bullets out of you. Him and Ella.”

Lucifer tensed. “Yes.”

She threw her arms up, exasperated, reading the fear in his tone. “Next time, _call me_ okay?”

He evaded. “Hopefully that won't be necessary.”

She asked, “if I hadn’t been there, at all, Marcus wouldn’t have died, would he?”

“Cain was not a good man, Detective.”

Softly, “Please, answer me.”

“No, likely not.”

She nodded once, sharply. “And I wouldn’t have...seen you.”

“The world revolves around ‘what-ifs,’ Detective. But we can’t know for sure what might have happened.”

“When would you have told me? Shown me?”

He didn’t have a good answer. “For as long as I could put it off, I would have. I told you the truth, I always have-”

She cut him off. “The _truth_ doesn’t matter. Not when it has no real meaning. You knew I didn’t believe you. You _knew_ it.” She bit her lip like she wanted to say more. “You chose to stay near me. To let me not believe you.”

“I knew you might react...badly. Humans who have seen what you saw never react positively.”

“Yeah, and waiting longer would have made this better.” Her eyes started to shine with wetness. She scrubbed at them with her fingers. “How long, after we kissed, were you going to wait?”

“I don't know.”

“Back in the precinct, after you told me you had been kidnapped, you tried to...show me? Your face?”

“I didn't have it, as it turns out. I thought my Father took it, but it seems it might have just been myself all along. I didn't want to scare you. Perhaps a part of me already knew it wouldn't work when I tried.”

She looked at him. “You did scare me, back in the room where we were shot. You want to tell me what happened? Exactly?”

He shuffled, as if embarrassed. “Not particularly.”

“You've said that you don't lie. I have one question and I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Of course.”

“Did you murder Marcus?”

 _He told her before now he was a monster._ “Yes.”

* * *

The elevator doors opened to Lucifer, his head down, staring at his piano keys like he was thinking of pulling the whole thing apart piece by piece.

Three or four empty bottles stood guard on the front edge of the piano, along with what looked like remnants of white dust. It just as clearly wasn't anything so innocent, not with the rolled up paper nearby.

 _Dammit._ “What happened?”

Lucifer glared with a slightly glazed and unfocused look to his eyes. “I talked to Chloe. She left.”

Well, he didn't have experience with assholes for nothing. “Hey, it's okay, how about we get you away from the dr- the piano?”

Dan scanned the penthouse, but the only place free of bottles turned out to be the bed.

 _Sigh_.

Dan resigned himself to manhandling Lucifer, again. “C'mon, buddy,” he wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him up. “You're a lot of trouble for someone who's been around this long.”

Lucifer leaned on him, and Dan couldn't help but notice a distinct difference in weight between Lucifer with wings out vs. wings folded or whatever.

The Devil ran a hand through his hair. “M'fine. Will be soon. You feel nice.”

Dan sat him down on the edge of his bed. “Want water?”

Lucifer tilted, then stretched out flat. “Daniel! So good of you to drop by.” His dilated eyes focused on Dan. “Horse nuggets. We have a thing tonight, don't we? Would you like some cocaine? If you do, you're out of luck because it's gone now. Sorry.”

Dan sat and patted Lucifer's leg. “I take it the talk didn't go well?”

“I don't think she really likes me anymore, Daniel. She said she liked me but that was before I said certain things about her stupid ex-boyfriend slash boss. She used to be my friend, I'm not so sure.”

“Oh. Hey, I'm sure that's not true. She divorced _me_ and we're still friends.” more civil coworkers than friends, but Dan didn't care to talk about it.

“Yes. But you didn't kill her ex-fiance.”

 _Well, he wasn't wrong on that. “_ You shouldn't tell me these things, not without a lawyer.” The advice flew out on automatic pilot.

“You going to arrest me? I have my own cuffs.”

 _This was his life now._ “I hope I don't have to try to arrest you. I doubt I can. Can you tell me what happened?“

Lucifer sighed deeply, turning on his side towards Dan. “At first, it was because he asked me to. And it was pretty fun trying. No, that's not right. The _firs_ t time I killed him, it was because I was sure he was Cain. He bore the mark, you see. Cain couldn't die. And I'm not actually allowed to murder regular humans. Immortal humans don't count. The problem was he wasn't immortal when I killed him that last time. No, that's not it. The problem was that I very much enjoyed killing him. Pretty much every time, even though it got tedious. That last time was the best though, because he stayed dead.”

Dan tried very very hard to remember the Cain story, but there wasn't much to it, except that Cain killed his brother out of jealousy. This one he needed his phone for, but it was in his pocket; _“‘_ _And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. When you work the ground, it shall no longer yield to you its strength. You shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth_ .’ He was marked too right? Wait, the first time? Pierce is _dead,_ right?”

“Oh yes. His soul is in Hell, where he belongs. But there’s a hitch, if the Good Word is to believed. ‘Then the Lord said to him, “Not so! If anyone kills Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold.’ I might have been the right person to kill him after all, as Dad has had his _vengeance_ on me already. Who knows, maybe He’ll come up with something new now.”

Dan swallowed. “Well, that sounds... bad.” He left his hand on Lucifer's leg. “Uhm. So he's not a vampire or something? There’s no chance this wasn’t ultimately God’s doing?”

“Nope. No vampires. Not that humans haven't _tried_ . Honestly, it's like you cant be left to your own devices for a moment. You do things like try to create monsters you invented, playing Dad, corrupting nature itself. Granted, unsuccessfully, but still, someone thought vampires were a good enough idea to try to emulate, drinking each others’ blood. Which is a very bad idea in and of itself, very little actual nutrition in human blood and it tastes awful. Who decided vampires are _romantic_ anyway? My bloody Valentine indeed. You're all ridiculous on some level or another.”

Dan blinked, trying to get back to the subject. “Okay, so, let me get something straight. Marcus was...Cain. Biblical Cain? Who murdered his brother and really should have been, I don't know, stoned or something.”

Lucifers words slurred a bit. “World's first murderer. Yup.”

“And... _God_...decided that the correct punishment was literally to live forever.”

“Also yup. He complained about it like Hell couldn't _possibly_ be worse somehow. Jokes on him now.”

“Your family is fucked up.”

“You know what I like about you, Dan?”

“Hey, you called me Dan!”

“Sorry, won't happen again. I think the brownies just kicked in. They take a bit longer you know.”

“I...do know, but that's not-”

“You listen to people. Even non-people like myself.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You're not a not-” what was he? “you're my friend.”

“Right you are.”

“Lucifer. How is he dead, then?”

“Might be the demon blade. The one you used on me? Might be the fact that Cain loved Chloe. Except he can't have gone this long without _someone_ loving him, so it must be that she loved him after all. He never told her who he was.”

“I'm not sure logic is a great idea right now. But why does it matter for Chloe?”

Lucifer reached out, limply touching Dan's closer arm. “She's a miracle.”

“Dude, I know you said earlier-”

“She shouldn't even _be_ here. My Dadforsaken _Dad_ caused her to be born. She's an only child because Penelope could have none.”

Fuck

_Fuck._

_Fuckity fuck._

“Trixie almost didn't exist?”

“See? You are a good listener.”

Dan sat very still. “But you think God meant her for you? Why were we together when you met her?”

Lucifer held up his fingers to dramatically air quote, “ _mysterious ways_.” His arms flopped back down on the bed, touching Dan.

Dan winced. “You know, earlier I told someone I'd throw you a parade if you were the one who killed him. I didn't think Chloe actually loved him.”

“She loved you.”

“Yeah, I screwed that up, didn't I?” Dan decided not to let him answer the question. He found a small flashlight in his jacket pocket and flashed it in Lucifer's eyes. His pupils were blown, but responsive. “You're pretty dilated. How much did you take? Anything besides pot brownies and-” he tried not to be judgy, he really did, but he'd seen his fair share of overdoses and silently prayed Lucifer hadn't had a hand in too many of them in the years he's been here. “Cocaine?”

He waved vaguely off the bed. “I had some Molly stashed in the piano bench. I think I took that too.”

“You know you probably have enough in here to be charged with intent to distribute. Or _had_ if there's anything left.” the dust on the piano was enough for possession.

Lucifer, oblivious as always, went on, “well of _course_ I usually _distribute._ It's more fun to share. I might have a brownie left if you want one.” He eyed Dan. “Half a one for you. I get the feeling you're dull at parties. Maybe a quarter of one. Bottom of the fridge.”

Dan sighed. “Very dull. I haven't ‘partied’ in a long ass time. You might have liked me more in college.” on second thought, it was probably a good thing they hadn't known each other then.

Lucifer groaned and curled up around him tighter, his body as warm as- _God, last night?_ “But you're here and I like you now. Even though you're boring.”

“I like you too, buddy.”

“You do?”

He did, actually. “You're a pain the ass, and my life has gotten infinitely weirder with you in it. Especially lately.”

“But?”

Dan shrugged. “Well, I wouldn't have even met Charlotte if it wasn't for you. And now I know she's...somewhere. I haven't really made peace with it all yet, but knowing has helped, a lot.”

Quietly, Lucifer said, “Chloe didn't know it when she said it.”

“Sorry?”

“She told me I wasn't the Devil to her.”

His eyebrows tried to come together. “I'm sure she meant it as a compliment.”

Lucifer sighed, and the universe sighed with him. “That's the problem.”

Oh. “You realize she might also have a problem with your drug use, right?”

“Really? She never said anything. I think. Did she tell _you_ not to?”

“She's a mom. And a cop. And no. I grew out of my pot phase, around the time we got serious. Just wasn't interested in it anymore. That and the random drug testing you undergo as a cop. At least the first few years. I'd say I'm surprised you didn't get tested but I'm really not. That or your damn system burned it all up first.”

“A bit of both. I bribed the drug testing agency woman just in case. With money, not sex. She was a lesbian.”

Dan patted his friend. “I don't get why Chloe freaked out so badly though. Your wings-”

“Didn't want them. Got rid of the bastards for a reason. They aren't who I am.”

“Regardless, they're...well, pretty.”

“She didn't see them. She saw _me._ ”

“What does that even mean?”

Lucifer, horizontal on the bed, just...changed.

The face and neck that was turned into the pillow became red, flaky and discolored. Heat rolled against him. A faint smell of maybe wood ash coiled up. Dan could see the edge of his eyes, black rather than white. His mouth was drawn back, hair and stubble gone. He was looking away to the living room, passively.

All Dan saw was hurt.

His stomach clenched in fear all the same. Followed by something else.

One of his hands rested near the back of Lucifer's head. He edged his thumb out to brush the hot red skin. It didn't burn, but would be uncomfortable before long if he kept his hand there.

Lucifer immediately flinched, glancing down at his own hand. “Bother.” He changed back, leaving Dan's fingers in hair again. He wasn't sure what to do, so he just stroked Lucifer's head. Dan picked a section of Lucifer's shoulder to stare at for a minute or two. He obviously didn't intend the slip in appearance.

This must be what Chloe saw. After all this time. He wanted to ask how, why, now what, but he had little enough left of himself after today. He had nothing left in him for questions and answers. This was what it was, so Dan could either deal with it or summon the physical energy to get up and leave.

Brown eyes flicked back up at him, body tense.

Dan kept his touch light. He knew there had to be something else to Lucifer, but not what. He probably should have guessed it would be something like this, something out of a horror film. He didn't have any words to give, so he didn't. His fingers accidentally tugged in hair product in the re-appeared curls, as real as they were before. Dan pulled his fingers away, but the Devil didn’t react in pain. Dan knew he wouldn’t, but still.

Lucifer caught his hand and kissed his knuckles.

Not sure what he was even really doing, but sensing a need, Dan moved to be Lucifer's little spoon. A long-boned arm promptly climbed over his hip and just held him, resting against his chest. Dan felt his heart's pulse against the arm. Lucifer hummed into his spine, but did nothing else, breathing hot breath against him.

This time Lucifer wasn't asking for anything else. Hesitantly, before letting himself think too hard about it, Dan curled his fingers around Lucifers and kissed them. Lucifer moved closer, molding his longer body to him. Dan gave into his wrung-dry emotional state and let him. Lucifer didn't seem much better off.

Neither of them, apparently, was in the mood for seduction. Which was fine by Dan, since he was still unsure about whether his barely-there attraction to Lucifer was Devil-related or that Dan was a late bloomer in that sense. He was willing to admit it was possible. It didn't make him any less thankful that Lucifer wasn't aroused against his backside. The thought of which brought all kinds of new images to mind. Regardless, Lucifer's half to mostly-drugged state made Dan uncomfortable with the idea of pursuing anything tonight.

_Maybe another night?_

Lucifer's cell phone buzzed briefly out in the living room.

The body behind his started breathing in a sleep pattern. Dan realized he still had his shoes on.

Well, he wasn't leaving _now._  He huffed a sigh and tried to figure out how to get his shoes off and down on the floor without sounding like a herd of elephants.

That's when the elevator opened and a number of FBI agents poured into the living room.


	10. Not a Devil's Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and Lucifer rot in lockup for a few hours. A wild Mac appears and finally gets to talk to Lucifer directly. He's not sure it was a good idea after all. Dan feels useless and extremely mortal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Just_Mad_Enough whom I adore for her awesome beta'ing skilz. And the tremendous amount of work she's done for me.

Dan didn't know why Lucifer stuck around to be arrested, but stay he did. As fast as the FBI were, nothing beat the speed of an angel. Lucifer  _ let _ himself be dragged upright from his bed, cuffed and read his rights then led out; there was no other possible explanation. He waved, doubled-handed, somehow having gotten his cuffs in front, to LUX partiers like it was part of a show. Dan they allowed the courtesy of walking out with his coat over his cuffs, but he was taken in custody too.

The Devil now sprawled on his jail cot without a care in the world, passively laid out like they were just staying in a five-star hotel and waiting around for room service to be delivered. He sounded like he was humming to himself but Dan didn’t try to figure out what song it was.

No one had turned off the fluorescent lights and they buzzed in the otherwise gritty silence of the holding area.

Dan himself felt...itchy. He missed his phone within three seconds, but at least he wasn't in as much trouble as Lucifer. The thought didn't really help matters; If his friend was determined to stick around, Dan didn’t know why. Dan had no reason to think he’d be charged at all, but he was well familiar with the technique. He himself had frequently had held persons of interest for a day before they had to be charged or let go. It was possible the FBI would try to charge him with drug possession, or threaten to, just to get him open up about Lucifer. 

It still begged the question of why Lucifer allowed himself to be arrested. He wasn't sure if he'd accept the few strings Dan had left to pull on. Lucifer had plenty of his own, but as far as he could tell, hadn't yanked on any yet.

He half expected Amenadiel to turn up and force Lucifer to leave. Or  _ try  _ anyway.

He wasn't going to be able to sleep in the holding cell they almost shared, so he sat with his back to the corner of the wall and cell bars he did share with Lucifer. He was within touching distance but Dan didn't reach through. Being close by was comforting. He considered asking Lucifer to scratch the middle of his back where he couldn’t reach. It was starting to drive him crazy.

There were a few other people nearby in other cells but most of them were sleeping off the alcohol still in their system or just sleeping quietly. None paid them any attention past a curious look. No guard stood inside the area.

In his adjoining cell, Lucifer stretched out like a sleepy cat, wearing his dress clothes from earlier. He was just returned there after fingerprints and processing were done.

Dan didn't believe Lucifer would be charged with anything that would stick, and he couldn't imagine there was a cell anywhere that could actually hold him.

He asked the second part out loud.

On the cot, Lucifer turned his head, his jacket carefully folded up under him. “Haven't you heard? No door is locked to the Devil. Remember when we were getting interrogated together and you helpfully informed us there was no reason to stay tied up?”

Dan very distinctly did. He wondered what would have happened had they punched Lucifer in the face instead. Could Lucifer fake a reaction to being hit in the face?  _ Would _ he? 

To illustrate his stated point, Lucifer reached out and pointed at the cell door lock. A metal part scraped against another part and the door audibly unlatched with a heavy click. “They'll notice that soon, I'm sure. The gesture isn’t necessary but I find it entertaining.”

Dan tried not to be impressed with such a simple use of power, but he hadn't that much exposure as of yet-though the wings were a doozy. His brain helpfully informed him  _ yet  _ was entirely possible. He hadn't considered what Lucifer could do beyond scaring suspects, burning things and  _ flying. _ “Then why are you still here?”

Per usual, Lucifer's first response was an evasive partial truth. “I like my flat. If I vanish into thin air from police custody, I imagine my home will be emptied of all my belongings there. I have quite a few things I'd hate to lose, that I've spent time collecting. I suppose it might be time to update the living area set, however.”

Dan sensed a half-truth, picking up that he deliberately didn’t mention his other properties. “Time you have. You just can’t be assed to start over, do you?”

Lucifer smiled a little. “Well, as you’re aware, I don't use a fake name. It will be difficult to ‘start over’ with this one. Besides, this isn't my first trip to lock up. Usually, I can talk my way out before even getting past the door.  _ Usually _ , I'm not so careless to actually get caught with loose drugs, and my penthouse has never been raided before. It'll blow over. I expect I'll be assigned community service or some such. That's how things are still done, is it not? For those with means and a good lawyer?”

Dan winced at the unsubtle dig at his profession. The system was unequal and treated those in it on a sliding scale, it was true. Someone with no money might get an added sentence if they couldn't pay their fines. He was in no current position to defend it one way or another. “And me?”

The tone  was  flippant but the words were not. “I'll do whatever is necessary of course.”

Dan was stunned. He didn't think he was in real trouble, and he didn't expect to be charged, but it was nice of Lucifer to even say something like that. “You called your lawyer already right?”

Sarcastically, “oh, is  _ that _ what one does?”

“Lucifer…”

He snapped without heat, “of course I called my bloody lawyer. She's on her way.”

Dan felt properly chagrined.

He added, “I assume you don't have one. She's at your disposal as well.”

“Thank you…” Dan reached through the bars to squeeze Lucifer's shoulder. He was warm to the touch. Dan knew what powerful lawyers charged by the quarter-hour and it was intimidating. “Thanks for not running, whatever your complete reasons. I know you aren’t happy and  I this isn’t where you want to be.”  _ But I'm glad you're here with me. _

Lucifer didn't move for a moment, then reached up and gripped Dan's hand in return. “Not to worry. Besides, if I ran away, I wouldn't be able to look forward to our movie night I tragically fouled up. I imagine if we had proceeded as planned, things might have been in a different state of affairs when we were rudely interrupted.”

Warmth flooded him. Dan was far too drained to expect anything other than to hope to blow off some steam, get stupid drunk and maybe talk Lucifer's ear off about things. He almost didn't even go out last night. His heartache s faded a little with Lucifer's voice.

Dan knew Lucifer felt his flush through his hand and wrist. Lucifer turned his head again, looking back and up. “Oh, Daniel, are you having ideas that aren't  as  perfectly innocent  as a night of film watching between friends?”

“I...uh…” Dan didn't pull his hand away, thinking of the skin under the shirt.

“You're aware I'm always eager to entertain and pursue such ideas, yes?”

“I know, and I'm still flattered. It's just that-” He flinched, thinking of something he really should have before now. “Can we not talk about this now? Someone is probably watching us anyway. That might be why they locked us up next to each other and left the lights on.”

“Pish. Let them.” 

Dan spotted a ceiling camera in the hall just outside their cells, but those usually didn't pick up the sound. He hoped not, considering the trick Lucifer did. No one flew down the hallway when the door made the noise, so either the camera was a standard-crappy resolution, no sound pickup, black and white.

Or.

If _he_ were watching friendly suspects talking to each other, he'd find a way to stir things up, delay the lawyer. He waited a few minutes in silence. Lucifer may have picked up on it too, staying quiet but drawing circular patterns with his fingertips on the back of Dan’s knuckles that Dan suspected were obscene. He didn't yank his hand away, allowing himself to just enjoy the simple touching. It was restorative, calming. He didn't think he'd seen Lucifer do such things with lovers past or present. Or maybe he hadn’t looked beyond the fuck-everything-that-moves persona, hadn’t tried to look for sweetness and a gentle side - which really said a lot more about himself than about Lucifer.

He certainly hadn't  _ thought _ much about it before. He couldn't stop himself from asking, “You do this for all the men you like?”

“Get arrested together? Not my  _ modus operandi _ , but I understand it makes for a great story later on. ‘Oh, how did you two meet? Well, you see, I did too much cocaine and my boyfriend showed up and patted my head until the FBI broke in and arrested us.’”

Dan snickered. “I meant sharing legal services?”

“Only a few. You're welcome to feel indebted to me. You know-”

“Sure. Deal with the Devil. Got it.”

They were quiet a minute longer. Dan habitually mentally looked for his phone again, sighed at himself and wondered if he could at least get a pen and paper. Lucifer's tongue touched his hand and Dan nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“Hey!”

“I'm bored.”

“Well it's not my fault.”

“No, but you're convenient.”

A ‘drunk’ man two cells down finally spoke, “your boyfriend looks fancy. Must be nice to be kept.” 

Dan sighed, unoffended and secretly pleased with himself. “Knock it off, plant.”

The drunk grunted.

Lucifer snickered. “I guess it pays to have a cop boyfriend.”

Dan groaned. “You spotted him too.”

“You're sure of that are you?”

“Yeah. And you're not my boyfriend. Jesus, I feel old just saying that.”

Lucifer gave him a look he could have felt from the other side of the  _ universe _ .

“Shut up.”

Lucifer smirked. 

Thinking out loud, for their watchers; “so who of the group do you think is coming to be the bad cop and good cop? Or do you think it'll be just one FBI agent? I'm already sure it won't be any of our coworkers.”

Lucifer thought about it, concurring, “I'm going with Martha, the blonde woman, and either the lead fellow or the next one down. To prep us for the real hardass up the chain of command.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that too. A male/female team. A softer face to pair with a rough one.” He winced, thinking of Lucifer and Chloe. 

A door opened a minute later and the half-expected ticking of heels across the floor didn't present. Dan looked up, trying and failing to pull his hand from Lucifer's shoulder. The Devil half-smiled and then let go,  _ after _ the single agent strolled up. He had a flat look to his face, perhaps not yet sure which hat to wear for this discussion.

Agent Eric Mac stopped outside Lucifer's door. He pulled it open an inch and shoved it shut again with a clang that echoed through the room. “What did you do?”

Moving like water, Lucifer swung to his feet and approached the door with a stalking grace. He gripped the bars and leaned into them. Looking Mac dead in the eyes, he said, “ah, Daniel, we might have a believer on our hands. Alone too, if you don't count our new friend there down the way.  I feel like I know him from somewhere, do I?”

Dan startled, sitting up straight. He gave the drunk another glance, but he was well-disguised, if bad at his job. “Not one of ours I think.”

Mac plastered an unconcerned look on his face, but it was a few seconds late. “How did you unlock the door?”

Lucifer smiled, tilting his head. “Maybe someone forgot to lock it in the first place.”

“They didn’t.”

Dan desperately wanted to see Lucifer’s face from Mac’s angle. 

Lucifer , tone light as you please, said, “some would say ‘magic', but it's nothing so mundane. This cell is no Devil's Trap and you're no sorcerer in any case.” His head tilted, back straightening. “You have a different kind of power though, don't you? Perhaps enhanced perception?”

Mac stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, guarded. “How’s that?”

“Do you ever talk to angels, Eric?”

He smirked, but it was nervous or  _ looked _ nervous, but he had an answer ready. “There's my wife. I don't know any others.”

“And now you know me.” Lucifer slowly nodded. “Interesting.  _ Unlikely _ , but interesting. Tell me, Mr. FBI, what gets your engine turning in your later years? Other than your wife? Why did you really come here?”

Mac blinked. “I came to find a killer.”

“And have you?”

“I just have to prove it, but that got easier tonight.”

Lucifer’s eyes flicked off to the side and back to Mac's face, deliberately misunderstanding. “I have no doubt Marcus Pierce had murdered at least  _ one _ person. Granted, it wasn’t recently by most standards. Prosecuting him for it will take a bit of effort-”

“We found the murder weapon in your apartment.  _ Our _ forensics will confirm it matches the wound perfectly. Your team might even confirm it as well if I let them have access to it. And there were enough drugs in your apartment to put you away for a bit if murder doesn't stick. The urine test-”

Lucifer waved dismissively. “Will show nothing. You’ve already waited too long to collect it. My body filters out toxins of all sorts in a short period of time. Though I am curious about what I missed. When I go on a bender I usually empty the place entirely.”

The agent humored him. “Ecstasy in the piano bench, traces of cocaine  _ on _ the piano, edibles in the fridge, and mushrooms out in a planter on the balcony for some reason.”

“Oh!  _ That’s  _ where those went to. One of my guests probably thought they could grow more. Not how it works, of course. You need a wood pile for that.”

“We collected a few hair samples back in your apartment, even if the swabs come back negative. Hair retains traces of drug use for years, potentially. At least months.”

Lucifer licked his lips. “Come now, you know nothing is likely to come of that, why not let it lie. Those hairs could be that of any of my lovely partners. I find it doubtful you can be sure they're mine.”

Mac leaned on the door, opposite Lucifer. He wasn't as tall as Lucifer but then very few men were. “What makes you think I'd let a little thing like multiple samples get in my way? Especially since you seem nervous about it?”

“I can see avoiding you initially was the right call.” Still without looking back, he continued, “we have a complicated one, Daniel. Perhaps even inoculated as you have been, in some way. Not entirely though since he still thinks I'm pulling something. I like him. Not in a ‘come back to my place when this is all over-not that I’d necessarily turn him down either’ way, mind you, but I do like him.”

Dan wasn’t sure how to respond, so he didn’t.  _ How many people have seen angels anyway? Was it really as common as the Bible, or even mystery channel shows make it out to be? _

Eric squinted at him. “ _ Aren't _ you pulling something? I've cracked harder nuts than you. Just because you have money doesn't mean you're bulletproof, even in L.A.. You might get a lighter sentence than I’d prefer, but I’ll see this through as long as I have to to get you in the system.”

Lucifer snorted. “I'm well aware I'm not generally  _ bulletproof _ . Well, right now I am.” He said the last with a slow grin, an inside joke the agent wasn't in on. As if he  _ knew _ it wouldn’t be tested here and now. Dan certainly hoped he wouldn’t. Lucifer being shot at, even invulnerable, wasn’t something that bore thinking on.

The agent blinked first. “You really think you’re the Devil?”

Lucifer sighed, his face not quite touching the bars. “I do. I am.”

Mac blinked and backed away first. Lucifer remained leaning on the door, his body tilted with a casual jaunt. The line of his lean frame from his neck to his shoes did things to Dan that he wasn't ready to think too hard about, at least right here and now. Lucifer kept his eyes forward. “Do you believe me, Eric?”

“I met your demon. I found out ‘Mazikeen’ is a demon name, anyway, born or made from Lilith. You guys worked hard at this. What is she really? Friend, family, does your dirty work? We haven’t been able to get a hold of her since she talked to me.”

“Dear Lily isn't allowed out of Hell again. She makes so much trouble. Can't seem to control herself. Maze was one of her first makings. There are others. I find, well,  _ found  _ Maze particularly useful though we haven't been in contact as much lately. So? The believing thing?”

“I can't. If I did believe you or her, I might not be able to do my job. Without proof otherwise, I won't let you walk out of here.”

Dan stepped closer. 

Lucifer waved casually, still without turning. His voice dipped into darkness as he spoke. “Fear not, Daniel, I don't plan on breaking him. Besides, if they convict me, what are a few decades to me? Might be fun to take over a high-security prison from the inside. Who knows what sort of fun tricks I could teach my new Satanic followers, my newly collected Devil worshippers in my very own contained environment, hmm?”

Dan knew Lucifer was telling the truth, but lying by omission. He'd never do any of those things, but it would be utterly terrifying if he did.

Mac met Dan's eyes, measuring him, and flicked back to Lucifer. “You think you can talk your way out of this, and you're smooth, I'll give you that, but if we turn up evidence for further charges, you won't enjoy life for the near future, no matter what you think of your lifespan. Where there are drugs, there are dealers. We find them, they talk. We find a few people you did drugs with, they can name kinds they saw you doing. Maybe you bought some for someone else, that's another charge, per person, per dose. A man like you doesn't need to pay for sex, but I bet you have anyway, just for fun. We'll find them too. Also illegal. Working with the LAPD, you've likely lied under oath-”

“I do not lie. Under oath or otherwise.”

“Have you ever claimed your title, your persona under oath? I bet you have.”

Lucifer growled, “ _ I do not lie _ . You'll find no  _ oath _ breaking.”

He ignored the twist of wording, glancing over at Dan with a nod. “You supplied to Espinoza, further corrupting the system, perhaps there's a conspiracy as well that involves your other partner.”

At the same time Dan formed a protest in his throat, Lucifer's hands clenched the bars, his knuckles white. His head followed something invisible to Dan, but clearly ‘there' for Lucifer. He nearly spit. “Detective Decker knows nothing. She is not a witness and wouldn't take a bribe from me if I tried.”

“Not a witness? To what?”

Lucifer chewed his tongue. “Nothing of importance.”

Mac sighed. “A police lieutenant is dead, murdered. I will figure out exactly how. It doesn't make a difference that he was corrupt himself. Justice has to be brought from within the system, not out of petty or random vengeance. Having the murder weapon may not even be necessary if we can place you at the scene of the attack. Any number of people saw you clash with Pierce .”

“He wanted death. Wished for it. The desire ate him alive.”

“That’s your story? He got engaged to be married while he wanted to die? Were you jealous?”

“Of  _ Cain _ ? Please.”

The room went cold.

Mac started to respond, then paused. Dan knew he visibly winced and Mac noted it. He regarded them both cooly. “Espinoza, you know I'm going to interrogate you separately anyway, is there anything you want to add now to reduce the amount of trouble you're in?”

Dan jumped. “What?”

“There was cocaine on your jacket. None in your system, but it was on you. Accessory to murder unless we find otherwise. If not accessory then possibly for standing aside and withholding evidence. Did you know?”

Lucifer interrupted, “ _ Lie _ . There couldn’t be anything on him. I was quite thorough. Daniel was unaware of the quantity of my drug use. He was unaware any could be transferred to him, were it even true.”

Well,  _ that _ was true. It had to be an absurd amount though. Dan wasn’t entirely sure who to believe on there being any on his jacket. Just being inside the apartment could be a hazard for microscopic exposure. Probably. 

Mac remained stalwart. “You know how many pretty Hollywood types we have to deal with? You think you own the world, but you don't. You might even overdose one day, leave Espinoza all alone again. He'll have another funeral to attend, you want that?”

Naturally, Lucifer scoffed. “I know my limits. Which are very difficult to break.”

“They usually say that too. You know which people don’t know their limits? People you gave drugs to.”

Lucifer just raised an eyebrow. “I'll have you know that any drugs I give away are consumed within the confines of my flat. They do not leave my home. I have, on at least one occasion, called for medical assistance myself for a LUX patron. I don't associate with dealers who sell dangerous product, or I don’t continue the association once I find out.”

Dan heard himself groan. 

Mac addressed him. “How much of this did you know?”

“Only that Lucifer  _ knows  _ dealers. We've used his less than legal connections multiple times in police work. That's all. But seriously Lucifer, stop giving him ammo. Wait for the lawyer.”

Lucifer nodded brightly and ignored him. “Yes, the Detective even turned down a mere pot brownie. He likes to be a good example to his offspring. He has never used or taken anything in my presence.”

“when did Lucifer first offer you drugs, Espinoza?”

Dan debated on not answering and taking his own advice, but this might help. “Literally last night. If he had before I never thought he was serious. The LAPD has better things to do than arrest someone over a  _ pot brownie _ , which was all he actually offered.”  _ Had to offer _ .

The agent shot back, “especially a man with  _ connections.” _

Dan grinned coldly. “Frankly, yes.”

Mac grunted again. He abruptly looked to the side, the same place Lucifer eyeballed before. He didn't stare for more than a second, shaking it off. “How long have you known Lucifer? Seriously?”

“Sometimes it feels like my whole life.”

“How long have you been...dating? Not long unless you had him on the side.”

Dan felt himself get defensive but he couldn't help it. “We aren't. Dating or whatever. He tries to seduce  _ everyone _ . Be wary of anyone he  _ doesn’t  _ want to bone.”

“Yeah, we found that out with some of our agents. Had to send them back, by the way after we found out. Apparently, Lucifer is...impressive.”

The Devil preened but his tone turned acrid. “Of course I am. And if you  _ must  _ know, Daniel has been valiantly resistant. But I think I'm making progress. He's quite  _ correct _ , as I don't date. I just fuck.”

Dan felt something clench. Had he said something wrong? “Hey, if you want an invitation, I make incredible waffles for breakfast.” He immediately regretted his boldness, thinking of Charlotte, and not to mention  _ breakfast _ and all that implied, but Lucifer's head turned to him for the first time since he got up to confront Mac. Dan felt a real warmth. Maybe everything would be alright and he could make good on the offer. 

_ Sure. _

The brown eyes softened just a bit, then turned back. “Well, maybe I do have a date to keep after all. This cell is putting a crimp in those plans.”

Agent Mac's expression was nearly unreadable. “If you want to keep it, eventually anyway, I suggest you help out your friend and confess. Get you inside one of those nicer rehab places, I'm sure you can afford it. Set up conjugal visits, meet some nice actors, celebrities.”

Lucifer let his arms hang out of the cell, propped up on his elbows. He wore his black stone ring; meaning no one took it from him upon arrest as they should have. He loosely clasped his fingers, intertwined. “Say you became convinced I am who I claim to be. What would you do?”

The air grew  _ cold _ . Dan crossed his arms tightly, looking around. Something was definitely weird. 

Lucifer kept on. “Through conventional means. Spoken words, no tricks.”

Mac squinted. He was still wearing his own black jacket and hadn't noticed the temperature change, or when it lifted. “That's a very tall order. I doubt you could.”

“Give us a guess.”

“I'd imagine if it were true, you could leave anytime you wanted.”

“I can. But I'm not, for now.”

“Because of Espinoza?” Mac didn't bother to hide his disbelief. “That's touching. However. I couldn't do anything other than my job. Until you  _ do _ something to change my mind, and even then, well, I guess I'd call a priest to help. But I won't let you get away with murder.”

Dan felt he really would have liked to have known Agent Mac under different circumstances.

Lucifer nodded. “Well, bad for me, good for your soul. Normally at this point, I might try other material means at my disposal but I doubt that would work on you either.”

“You called me complicated.”

“You have a keen mind. Makes it harder to draw out your hidden desires. Luckily for me, the longer you talk to me, the more susceptible you become. Now, agent McBeth, why don't you tell me what you truly want. Why even bother with little old me?”

Mac's brain came to a halt; it was a look Dan had seen many times before from across the table or behind the glass. He looked at Lucifer like he was a viper. “You're a puzzle. You're hiding something. Either you're real and a menace or a fake, but still a menace. No one on my whole damn team takes you seriously, and that was  _ before  _ we even came here. Something huge is going on and I'm going to find out what.”

Lucifer gave him a half-smile. “Even if it means facing down your own personal devils? A case that got away? Blowing up your own contacts by interfering with mine?”

“It isn't right. A man is dead. I'll do what I have to.”

“Hmm. I bet you're one of Dad's favorites, aren't you? Explains a few things.”

“I'm sorry?”

“My Father, not yours. He has a soft spot for you. Humans.”

“You're convincing, I'll say that. I'm going to put a note in your file not to be left alone with any single court officer.”

Lucifer grinned like Mac just issued a polite challenge of Go Fish or game of checkers. “Indeed?”

“How many people have you killed?”

His face stilled, his eyes laser-focused on the human before him. “Of actual humans? Depends on your definition. When I walk the Earth, things sometimes just happen. Many have been killed in my name. Many have been killed in the name of my Father; far, far more. I was given Hell to run because I belong there. Dad certainly didn't need me in the lead role, yet there he put me. Making me Lord of Hell was a greater punishment than simply being locked away. The place practically runs itself most of the time. Otherwise, the choices I made...well, Hell is not pleasant.”

Dan felt cold. He felt like he was getting a severely abridged version, knew he was, and it still cored him.

Eric stood quietly. “Normally, at this point, I'd recommend your lawyer plead insanity. I see you aren't. I don't know what you are, but you don't belong here, either. Your lawyer is waiting impatiently if you'd like to take a room with her.” He looked at Dan. “For your sake, Detective, do take an insanity deal yourself. He's obviously holding power over you.”

Dan couldn’t match Lucifer’s anger for sheer degree, but he was still pissed. “I make my own choices. Lucifer has never taken that from me.”

Mac just gave him a ‘yeah, right’ look and trod over to the drunk guy. “C'mon Dale.”

Lucifer perked up. “Oh! Now I recognize you! Dale! I offered you a blow job in the closet by the water cooler. Is it that later date yet?”

Mac gave Dale a withering look and dragged him out, nearly literally.

Dan came up to the bars next to Lucifer. “What's going on? Is it Amenadiel? I felt something.”

“She's getting sloppy. Now that I know who it is, I can  _ deal _ with her. I was going to wait until you or I were away, in case she didn't know you  _ knew _ about me. But, she's obviously noticed you sensing her, which means angel exposure on your part.”

“Who?”

“A feathered bitch who can't leave well enough alone. Can you Celiel?”

There was a grump, but it was inaudible. Dan didn't know how he knew. 

White light began to glow in place at chest height, like something out of a movie. Lucifer scolded, “enough theatrics. He's already seen  _ me _ and I'm far more impressive in every way.”

She appeared in place and Dan gasped. 

She shot a look at him. “What?”

“You have Charlotte's wings.”

She immediately fluttered them away with a shrug. “I like her. I like pretty women.” She gave Dan an appraising look that said, ‘ _ only women.’ _

“That being said, I have some advice for you.  _ Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. _ ”

He blinked, not sure if he should laugh or simply shake his head. And an angel quoting the Bible at him, as if this day hadn’t already gone sideways enough.  Dan collected enough of his thoughts to look up at the camera. A curl of smoke wafted out. He shot glances at the other cells but no one was looking, seemingly frozen or at least uninterested. The smoke twisting in the air proved it wasn’t time dilation. “What?”

“I'm good at suggesting things too. Like Lucifer, except I'm telling them and the other humans nearby that they aren't interested in checking in on us.”

Lucifer regarded her from his cell as if he didn't care anything human-made existed between them. Maybe he didn't. “So?”

She had white hair and dark eyes. It was up in a thick triple braid that made Dan wonder if all angels were vain to some degree. She eyed her brother as if she were hoping for a better-worded question. “You live here now. You'll play by their rules.”

“Beg pardon?”

Dan felt nauseous. 

Celiel stood in grey robes, regally. The effect was somewhat lost with her blue-tipped wings away and standing in the middle of a lockup. She held the hem of her skirts up to keep them off the floor. “The Host will take action should you run.” She smiled when she said it, like she hoped he would.

Lucifer threw up his hands. “Did you not hear the whole bloody conversation?”

“I did. I just thought you should know that most of us are paying attention to your actions here on earth.”

He grinned. “Oh, ho! So the Host is not in agreement then? Over Cain's death?”

“There are some who speak in...gratitude for solving that issue. None wished to upset Father, though some spoke of dealing with him directly. Or trying to. Amenadiel was not informed at any point of the process.”

“Who in heaven feared Cain?”

Her pretty face pinched. “I didn't say that.”

“You sort of did, little darling.”

She pursed her lips. “Him wandering the Earth in this growing ‘age of information’ as humans call it, would become problematic for the continued existence of free will. Sooner or later, Cain was bound to be temporarily killed, with witnesses, with no explanation.”

Lucifer filled in the rest of her thought process that she clearly wasn’t going to volunteer herself. “And then he would be revered, would he not? A man who comes back to life regardless of the method? Once outed, he could obtain a fair amount of fame and glory. Perhaps claim to be touched by Father? Yes, I can see how that could become an issue. What did he have to lose, after all, being doomed to Hell eventually?”

Dan thought of something. “Or just face recognition. If nothing else, he only had a few decades or less before someone paid enough attention to notice he isn't aging.” As he said it, he realized the same could be said for Lucifer. “Are you saying it could happen to Lucifer too? You already know he’s not going to take over the world, but just him being here...”

Celiel gave him another look. “You have a smart boy there, brother.”

“Well, stopped clock and all that.”

Dan wanted to look offended but Lucifer waved him off. “It's not as if Cain had any hope of being allowed to enter the Silver City.”

She didn't say anything.

“You're kidding. Someone in an opposing faction thought he had a chance? He doomed himself from his first murder. I doubt it was his last.”

She wet her lips. “It wasn’t his last. There was...hope...that when Cain obtained mortality once again, he would try to redeem himself.”

“When? You're saying the whole damn thing was a  _ bloody experiment?” _

“Not at first. Obviously. But you are well aware that actions alone don't necessarily doom a human to Hell. Cain acted in a jealous rage, setting him on that path. There was hardly any time at all between him becoming mortal and his death.”

Lucifer's face was a storm. “You knew. Someone up there  _ bloody well knew _ Chloe could do it.”

Celiel shrugged with a sly smile. “You were the one who assumed she was  _ your _ miracle.”

Dan felt and heard the silent thunder between them.

Lucifer's voice was low and dark, but unshaken. “And if I don't play ball?”

“McBeth dies.”

“Why should I give a flying fig for that federal berk? Did Dad even tell you the truth about Chloe or are you sodding  _ assuming _ things as well, since Dad isn’t talking to anyone directly lately?”

She vanished rather than give an answer.

“That’s right, _ fly away _ , you pretentious blue emu bint. Canaries have more wits about them!”

Dan thought maybe Lucifer got more British the angrier he was. 

Seconds after she flashed into nothing, the far door slammed open and a guard stuck her head in, eyeing them, then the camera which was still visibly leaking tendrils of black smoke. “What happened there?”

Dan shrugged unhelpfully.

Lucifer smirked. “It blue out.”

She eyed them a moment longer then came in. “Your lawyer is here.” 

* * *

Mac held it together until he got outside the holding area. A lawyer, a dark-haired woman who looked up at him unpleasantly, tapped her foot. She resembled Mazikeen to a degree, only her ferocity remained internal rather than external. She  _ had _ to be Lucifer’s representative.

Probably.

He started to wave her through the door. “Hey…”

“Mrs. Calvary, Attorney at Law.”

_ Well, that’s ironic. Seems to be a running theme.  _ “You’re here for Morningstar, correct? Can I ask how long you’ve been employed by him?”

“You can.” The _ ‘but I fucking well won’t answer’ _ , was heavily implied. She peered at him stonily, flaring her nostrils.

“Okay, well, you’re here now, why don’t you go check on him?” The door had locked behind him. “Sorry, I’ll sign out with the guard since I’m done here, did she go somewhere?”

“She’s not here, so probably.”

He huffed. “I’ll tell her you’re here if I see her then.”

“Thank you.”

_ She and Maze have got to be related somehow.  _ Mac felt like the flames of hell were licking at his heels as he made his way out, hastily scribbling his name on the ‘out’ sheet. He was unnerved and didn’t want to admit it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Hey, Cath?”

“Hey, are you awake? I know it’s late, but I just had a feeling... are you okay?”

Eric pulled the phone away enough to check the time. 3 a.m. “Yup. Just had a chat with the Devil, actually.” He bit his tongue, going over what he could say and what he couldn’t to someone not cleared. “He’s a character all right.” It was borderline creepy, actually, when she called like this. Like she had a sixth sense about things. He’d heard of other couples, or more commonly-siblings doing exactly the same thing, but he always chalked it up to a happy coincidence.

He scratched his neck, and his fingers pulled at cold sweat. “I’m two steps from believing him too."

She didn’t respond right away. “Did he shake you that much?” There was a sound of her shifting her phone to a more comfortable angle. “Can you talk about it?”

Mac realized he was standing alone in the parking lot outside the precinct. The lot was nearly empty, save for the guard’s car, the lawyer’s and a few others. It made him think a little of zombie movies. Apocalypse. “I guess I don’t get why he hasn’t founded a Satanic church or something. With that voice of his, he could command armies if he wanted. Instead, he caters to his club patrons.”

“I guess you should be happy he’s not that smart then.”

“Oh no, he is. He’s very, very smart. I’m much more afraid he’s going to wiggle off this hook, drop back into the lake and we never see him again. At least not in the criminal justice system. If he’s allowed to address his jury, he’ll have them voting the judge guilty rather than him.”

She paused again, “you sound like you’re actually worried.”

“Even if he’s  _ not _ the Devil, even if he killed someone, I’m not sure he’s going to get what he deserves.”

She chuckled. “Even if he’s not, the real Devil will be waiting for him.”

His wife could be vindictive when she wanted to be. “Does that mean you aren’t ordering that calendar?”

“Oh, it’s already in the mail. I love the bad boys, but I married the good guy.”

He laughed. A weight that was riding his shoulders evaporated. Whatever happened, it was out of his hands now. Well, not entirely - he still had notes to make, files to find and a bulletproof case to build. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	11. Fascinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Dan brainstorm. Ella too. Feels happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAH BETA IS BACK! WOO! Just_Mad_Enough is still putting up with my dumb ass. For some reason. I GOT TO MEET HER! And I think I still owe her a Sundae.
> 
> Also, FIRST POST AFTER COMING BACK FROM BRIGHTON! TOM WORE MY SHIRT. LUX WAS AMAZING. I MET GLITTERSKULLFAIRY AND NOTONELINE!
> 
> Also it MAH BIRTHDAY TODAY!
> 
> Fuck I'm old.

Dan didn't need bail money, yet. He hadn't been formally charged, but the lawyer told him that it might still happen, depending on how suspicious people where - and how vindictive, to be honest. ‘Accessory after the fact’, should Lucifer be convicted. Mrs. Calvary had a field day with the threatened drug charge for Dan, and it was dropped, leaving him with nothing, currently, save anxiety and no apology from anyone.

The clean drug test should help him keep his job. Small blessing, that. _Very_ small, considering how much he _didn’t_ want it at the moment...

Lucifer's penthouse was still a potential crime scene and open to anyone _else_ with a badge. Thus, Devil roommate. At the time, inviting him to stay seemed easier than leaving him to his own devices - they had a ton of work to do, conviction or not. He didn’t know if he should even call Ella or Chloe just yet, or what they even knew about this whole clusterfuck - and anyway, both should be sound asleep. If either had known about the raid about to happen, one or the other would have said _something,_ he was sure of it.

Lucifer's bail was significant, though all the charges hadn't been formalized - Drug Possession, Intent to Distribute. _Murder_. More could be in the works. The fact he got bail at all was a testament to Lucifer’s power - The next judge would likely as not want him back in, but they should have at least the weekend to themselves to work out a plan. Yay for business hours.

He hadn't said anything the entire ride to Dan’s apartment, looking distantly out the window, while Dan occasionally glanced at his profile cast in the dark in the back of the cab. Lucifer gazed steadily ahead, keeping his own counsel for once, probably hung up on the words of his sister.

Dan made a mental note to give his sisters a call and be grateful his siblings didn’t have wings. Or an agenda. For a moment he distracted himself with imagining their reactions to meeting Lucifer.

He still wasn’t sure where his footing was here. The offer of breakfast waffles was impulsive at best and not wanting to seem like an ungrateful dick at worst.

He couldn’t deny Lucifer had an amazing mouth. But so did, usually, the occasional drunk one-night stand, and he was at least a few sheets to the wind at the piano when they connected. With his head clear, he couldn’t remember if he touched the man because he wanted to or because the _whiskey_ wanted him to.

His fingers flexed, but he didn’t move to interrupt Lucifer’s thought process. If what Amenadiel said was true, he shouldn’t be affected by the nature of him anymore. Any attraction Dan felt for him was purely _him_. And he had to deal with that. Was it just not wanting to be alone again or insatiable Devilish desire swaying him? Being wanted, if only superficially?

Distracted while stepping in his door, Dan dropped his keys in the bowl. Which he missed because his table was gone due to being shattered and he was too exhausted to remember where he moved the damn bowl he kept his keys in. He resisted the urge to throw the offending keys once he scooped them back up, placing them clattering and scratching on a bookshelf.

He stared at them for a moment, then slapped the lights on as he went, taking his festering anger at the universe out on inanimate objects. “Fuck!” He yanked off his leather jacket with rough jerks and threw it into a corner. “What time is it? Never mind, I don't want to know.”

Lucifer eyed him, drawn out of his own thoughts by the activity. “Daniel?”

“You want the couch or Trixie's room? Dammit. I need to ask Chloe to keep her this weekend. I can’t subject her to this crap.”

“I  think this is the point where I remind you that I can find a hotel easily enough.”

Sigh. “I know.” _But I need you. I think._ “It’ll be easier on us both if we stay in one place. Monday is going to be Hell.” He winced. Lucifer rolled his eyes.

The Devil considered the couch. It looked a little on the short side for him. Slyly, he purred, “if yours is the only full-size bed-”

_Gah._ “No. Fine, you take my bed, I'll take the couch, not in the mood. Go. Shoo. I'm dead on my feet and _I_ need some rest.”

“I don't _need_ sleep. I have some favors to call in anyway, messages to leave.” He ground his jaw. “Before whatever happens, happens.”

_Oh good, he was finally thinking about the long-term problems._ Dan found a blanket in a closet, kicking off his shoes and making them thump satisfactorily against a near floorboard. “I've seen people get out of hot water with more evidence stacked against them.” Not that he liked it. This was different.

It was _absolutely_ different.

Lucifer started to head for the bedroom, then took a breath, pausing in the doorway with a look back. “I regret you’re involved in this.”

“Yeah, well, Pierce or Cain or whatever needed to die, so I'm not shedding any tears over him. We can talk about it in a few hours. I have a few ideas on how to get you off the hook, but we need information to trade for it, and I’m pretty sure you know enough people you can turn in to get clemency, if not a free ride.” He flopped down on the couch. “We can work on your case better if you stay here anyway.” Dan laughed tiredly. “I guess I can make you breakfast after all, but probably not waffles.”

Lucifer stalled. “Don’t feel obligated on my behalf. I imagine this isn’t your idea of a date.”

Dan shrugged. “I have to make myself something anyway, no trouble to make more.” His mind was only paying half-attention to what Lucifer was saying. There should still be eggs in the fridge.

“I am guilty, you know. Perhaps I should face my punishment. I've flaunted my disdain of human law for years, believing I could both live outside the law and yet reside here untroubled.”

Dan snorted, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus. “Sure, and the first time someone tries to shiv you in prison, the world goes sideways. Look, I can't believe I'm saying this, but _you are_ above the system. You have to be. You _can't_ go to jail. Your sister has some other plan up her stupid flowing sleeve.”

“I'm sure she does. The alternative of course, if I’m convicted, is just going back to Hell, until enough time has passed. Someone stronger than Amenadiel could have tried to force me back by now but they haven't. It’s always been his job to make me return. If Dad truly wanted me to return to ruling Hell, I’d be there and locked in forever. He wouldn’t have permitted me those trips topside.”

Oh. Yay. “Your-uh, God lets you out from time to time?”

“I assume so, since I _can_ come and go at will, when I have wings. Dad made Hell, he could have locked me in permanently. Admittedly, the first time I found my way out, it was a bitch.”

_Sleep. Need sleep._ “Oh? What happened?”

He looked like he was debating on spilling. Then he said, “I didn’t have Maze with me, that first time I found the main gate. I did a lot of fending for myself before I had demons falling in line. Before any souls started showing up in Hell. I was tired, hurt, being chased by...things, running in circles, getting lost until I figured out how the pathways worked.”

Dan listened, some of his weariness abating.

Lucifer stuffed a hand in a pocket and came out with a cigarette to play with - not lighting it but turning it over in his fingers. “I haven’t even talked to Dr. Linda about this, never came up with her before. So, I quite literally stumbled into one of the Gates. The same ones I would later view human souls coming in through. Without thought, I wrenched the ash coated bars open and shut them behind me, hellhounds hot on my heels. I found the surface again - I didn't know I _could_ leave, but once I stepped outside the Gate, I knew how to do it. Father left me my wings so I could get out again, at least for short hops. I hadn’t seen the sun, _my_ star…”

He trailed off distantly. Dan shuddered and reminded himself how happy he was to just be human and nothing more. He asked, “Are you the only one who can come and go?”

Lucifer shook himself off. “Any angel can enter Hell. For those of significantly lesser power than myself, it’s not a good idea to do so alone but well, semantics. I’ve lost wayward family members before who stumbled in accidentally or sought me out. Tends to put off visitors. After Amenadiel brought me back the first time, I learned to control the denizens of Hell, make them answer to me, and _only_ me. By then, angelic visitors dropped off to nothing. Even Amenadiel never stepped inside the Gates.”

Dan swallowed, thinking of angels who weren’t so immortal after all. He joked weakly, “I need a few hours sleep to be functional.”

Lucifer gave him a look, hanging his jacket over the back of a chair. “Thank you for your hospitality, Daniel. Were it not prudent, I’m sure you’d rather be alone.” His fingers gripped the back of the chair, knuckles white, gaze elsewhere again.

Dan’s protest died in his throat as his eyes drifted to slender hands clutching the chair back. “Er. Lucifer?”

The chair crashed to the ground, Lucifer’s eyes blazing as he suddenly prowled the length of the room like a panther. “ _What right do they have?_ Cain? _Redeemable?_   Why, let’s go big or go home, get   _Hitler_ out and let him try his hand in politics again! _”_ Looking at nothing, he added, _“_ _I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you._ ” Turning around again, starting the path anew, “ _God_ forbid He apply His own law to His firstborn children. No, the youngest are always the most treasured, the most readily forgiven, aren’t they?”

Dan held perfectly still.

Lucifer’s voice rose to the point Dan was sure the neighbors could hear. “He was a murderer! Abel was but the first in a _long_ line of victims. I had _plans_ for that arsehole when he finally got to Hell. Now he's there and I can't even give him his Devil's due. Nor can Maze, for that matter, and she’s the _artist._ ”

He turned in a long circle, seemingly forgetting about Dan’s presence altogether. “He should be writhing in abject terror for what he’s done, bleeding from every orifice. His murders, putting Chloe in mortal danger. She could have been killed! That first shot might have been two inches higher and she’d be gone from this earth. And then she’d-”

He stopped, schooling his body back to calm. It was eerie to watch, nearly as though watching someone freeze on fast-forward. “Well, never mind.”

Dan sank into the couch. “She’d what?”

Lucifer gave him the look with no voice, but he heard it like a bell. _Really? Daniel?_

Chloe. She’d be in heaven, just like Charlotte. Where Lucifer can’t go. Even if things remained as friends, as police partners between them, once she died, she was lost to him forever. Truly forever.

_Fuck._

“You...uh, tried to kill him before, right? Uh, Cain?”

Lucifer worked his jaw but allowed the change of subject. He glanced away. “I never expected it to work in the long run. Method of death should hardly matter, after all, the idiot threw himself into a volcano at one point and took six months to regenerate, but regenerate he did. Granted, it was highly entertaining for me - both killing him repeatedly and learning about the volcano thing. I haven't killed hardly anyone since leaving Hell. Deaths in Hell don't count since those aren't permanent, merely a means of punishment. A less effective one, mind you since souls generally figure out that Hell-Death isn’t lasting.”

“Uhm. This is officially above my pay grade. He's dead now, whatever happened before. What do you mean ‘hardly anyone?’”

Lucifer spotted a bottle of Whiskey in Dan’s kitchen area on a high shelf and crossed the room for it. “No one you know.”

Dan sighed. It wasn't like his own hands were clean. “I'll need to know eventually. Not tonight. No more information tonight. We can start on your case in the morning, invite your lawyer over or go to her office or however it works.” _God. Did she know Charlotte? Lucifer tends to lean toward things he’s already familiar with, he could have hired the lawyer out of the same firm Charlotte worked for, before she moved to join the LAPD defense team._

If nothing else came out of this pile of insanity, at least he knew where Charlotte was. He knew he owed Lucifer a debt for that, even if Lucifer didn’t see it that way. In the meantime, one of them was still mortal and in need of a sleep reboot. “Do you want Chlo’ to know you're here? I'm going to send her a text to keep her in the loop with the arrest.” he looked at his phone. “Fuck me. It’s 4 a.m.”

Lucifer immediately smiled, ever eager for a distraction.

“Again, no.” He accepted an offered glass with a shot of whiskey, not even caring that Lucifer seemed to have known where he stashed the good stuff (well, good for _his_ pay rate anyway), or how he procured it seemingly in seconds. Maybe it would help him sleep. Lucifer opted to sit next to him for a moment, taking a long pull straight from the bottle. His throat moved with the swallow.

Dan looked over the rim of his glass, thinking of beautiful angels and handsome devils.

_Distractions and fascinations. Is that all we are to him?_

He swallowed on a dry mouth before plowing forward. “Did it mean something? When you kissed me?”

Lucifer licked his lips with a casual, deflecting shrug. “As much as anyone else.”

Meaning nothing. Or everything. Dan's throat closed. “Chloe?”

“She seems to want to keep my company. For now, but I’m not holding my breath. I always knew something like this day would come, eventually. It was inevitable, with our close working relationship. I was deluding myself thinking otherwise. She wants nothing more than friendship. But that's all I had before and asking for anything else would be pure greed. I made a prediction when I gave her a gift; that necklace she used to wear - I expected it to be true when I said it and I don’t know why I started to think otherwise as of recent.” he looked somewhat distastefully at the cheap bottle but didn’t put the cap back on.

He sighed. _“...But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?”_

The words were mostly unfamiliar, but he still heard the quote as it wriggled through his brain, hunting the original written source, but he had not the memory recall of an angel.

"The answer is simple, Detective: no one, just as no one would love him.”

Dan freed a hand from around his glass, moved to touch his arm, stopped. “I didn't think I'd find it again, anything like what I had with Chloe; I thought my chance had passed. Charlotte's gone now, but I think she and I loved each other. And even if...even if for some reason all we’d had was knowing each other and nothing else, I’d be happy for that. Companionship doesn’t have to exclude love. And love doesn’t have to include romance. I think Chloe loves us both in her own way. For different reasons.”

Lucifer glanced over, unconvinced. “You're hardly a _monster._ ” The _not like me_ remained unsaid, but certainly not unheard.

He set his glass down. “I'm no _Cain_ , but it doesn't make me innocent, without sin. Trixie and Chloe drive me to be better, they always have. Without her in a good part of my life, I don’t know where I’d be, but it wouldn’t be a good place. They do for you too, I think. If you really thought that of yourself - that you’re a monster - you never would have even tried to change anything about yourself, for Chloe or for anyone else. What you do, you do for yourself, not because you want someone to like you, or even love you. If you really believed you aren’t worthy on any level, you would have gone _back_ by now.

“Monsters don't get better, they don't _care_.” He looked up. “You aren't one.”

Unbeknownst to Dan, Maze’s voice echoed in Lucifer’s head. _Stop caring. You’re the Devil._

He took another long swig straight out of the bottle, turning away. “History begs to differ.”

_God._ “Remember what I said about _history?”_

Lucifer glanced back, held his gaze, the shutters already starting to fall in place again, “that was nice of you to say-”

_Be happy. What the fuck am I doing?_ Dan grabbed the bottle away and kissed him. He had less smoke flavor on his lips and breath this time. The cigarette he’d been playing with stuffed away again somewhere.

Again, Lucifer tried to deepen the kiss, again, Dan pulled back, but his hand wound into short black hair. They just sat there for a moment, forehead to forehead, close enough to breath the same air. “I'm not- I don't know what I want, but I wouldn't turn down some company. Just not - what you're asking for.”

Foreheads still touching, Lucifer took a deep breath. “I suppose my favor calls and texts can wait until the sun comes up.” He grinned a little. “We have some time before the headsman's block, eh?”

He leaned back, a little, letting go again. “Just do me a favor and don't sleep naked?”

“Spoilsport.”

* * *

Dan woke with more than a little drool on skin.

Except not _his_ skin.

Lucifer had still been awake when he passed out, barely changed into something comfortable, Lucifer not yet in bed. Dan didn't recall what happened after that, but he drew together some vague recollection of a warm body dipping the mattress and stretching out nearby, a body longer and larger than he was used to.

And warmer. But comforting all the same. He had stirred enough to notice Lucifer left a reasonable amount of space between them, sort of remembering he might have flung an arm out before falling asleep completely.

His lizard brain was trying to tell him something, apparently.

His arm fell limply across a slim waist, under blankets and loosely tangled up in sheets, his face inches from the back of a bare neck that radiated heat. He was ninety percent sure he'd gone to sleep wearing a PJ set, but somehow his shirt had gone missing. He took quick stock, he definitely still had sleep pants, so nothing weird had happened. He usually slept in just boxers so it was a wonder he still wore more than one article of clothing.

He slept so deeply he forgot where he was when he woke. One of those dead-to-the-world sleep sessions where you feel like you woke up on another plane of existence. Parts of his chest pressed not unpleasantly against Devil back. Dan awkwardly extracted his limb, thankful his body didn't come up with any other ways to make it worse. He scooted backward, pushing up on one shoulder to get up. His careful efforts were for naught.

Lucifer's voice purred, soft and dark and thick with sleep. “Daniel? Running off so soon?”

“Uhm.”

“Come back. I won't bite unless you want me to.”

Dan's stomach rumbled and he found his shirt in the corner where he must have shed it in his sleep. “We have a lot to do today. I'll get some coffee going. Master bath is attached to this room, so get a shower if you want.”

Lucifer turned to look over his shoulder and Dan tried very hard not to look at a long, lean back that stretched for miles. He smirked. “You don't need one?”

“After breakfast.”

_Could this possibly get weirder?_

Lucifer flipped back the sheets, clad only in black silk boxers.

Dan fled.

 

* * *

He couldn't find it in himself to make waffles. Just pulling out the iron gave him goosebumps. He instead made eggs, bacon, and toast, then cradled his mug of hot coffee with both hands.

Lucifer put on pants after his shower but not much else, strolling out and scrubbing his hair dry with a towel, and stupid cheery like he hadn't only had four hours of sleep.

_Bastard._

Dan let himself peek.

A little.

Lucifer had a singular grace that Dan couldn't decide if it was unique to his person or just not something he ever noticed before in men. He certainly wore Dan's sleep clothes better than he did which just shouldn’t be possible since the hems stopped at the ankle on Lucifer. _Bastard_.

If he gave in to Devilish seduction, would Lucifer stick around or just let Dan wallow in regret? Would it be worth the might-have-beens?

The Devil crunched bacon and looked over him. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Have you ever had a long-term relationship?”

His eyes danced. “That depends. A few off and on again. Will Shakespeare, Ihara Saikaku, usually writers, the occasional lordling’s lady worth a repeat visit. Nothing exclusive. A way to drop in on a familiar face in so many meanings of the phrase.”

Dan bit his tongue. “So, they were just fun for you?”

“Just because we weren't exclusive didn't mean I didn't enjoy the company. But I also couldn't get too attached.”

_Because now I know he outlived them. Just like he would Chloe. Or me._ “Why me?”

“You're quite fit, a point in your favor. And, I can call you a friend. Don’t have many of _those_.”

“So it's not just a personal challenge?”

Lucifer shrugged and checked his messages.

Right.

“Are we...something?”

He blacked his phone screen. “You got the part where I don’t do ‘exclusive’, yes?”

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear.”

He cocked his head, in that bird-of-prey manner he does sometimes. Dan never knew if it showed that Lucifer genuinely didn’t understand the problem at hand, of if he didn’t understand why it _was_ a problem. “And?”

“Dammit, Lucifer.”

An eyebrow went up.

“Fine, yes, I think I’m attracted to you or whatever.”

“Well, _obviously_. Does this mean you’re finally going to take me up on my offer?”

Dan flailed internally. “I don’t _know_.”

The other eyebrow joined the first. “Well, that’s different. I suppose if you just want to make kissy faces, I can do that too.”

He was a really good kisser, too. “Okay.” Dan sat at his side of the kitchen table awkwardly.

Lucifer moved like a serpent, cradling Dan’s jaw to kiss him soundly, surrounding him in warmth and a low buzzing. This time when he felt Lucifer’s tongue brush his lips he tasted it. Only the stubble tickling his face told him any difference of gender. On the rare occasions he had imagined kissing another man, his mind had supplied clashing teeth and a struggle for dominance, but this, here, was something else entirely. Nearly gentle, which threw a spanner in pretty much anything to do with his expectations.

A knock rapped at the door, intruding rudely on his thought processes. It must have been going on for a while already, since Ella’s voice echoed from outside. “Dan? Daaaaaaaaaaaaaan? Are you home?"

He let go, without looking away from Lucifer’s face. “Yeah?” He realized he hadn’t raised his voice at all. He swung over to the door from a smirking Lucifer to pull it open. “Hey, uh, yeah?”

Dan wore a full set of pajamas again, but Lucifer merely wore a set of sleep pants. Something Lucifer would never normally be caught dead in.

Ella grinned widely, eyeing them both like she uncovered a massive secret, then barged in and slapped some papers down on the table, grabbing a piece of bacon in the process. “So, Dan, I heard you got in trouble.”

“More him than me. I’m not facing charges.”

“Yet.”

“What do you know?”

She flattened her lips, momentarily distracted from Lucifer’s shirtless state. “Mr. FBI is a pain in the ass. It’s like he’s a secret super spy or something. I tried to get a peek at his files yesterday and he keeps his case on him like it’s handcuffed to him.”

“Yeah, he paid us a visit last night in jail. As much as I wouldn’t want to try, I don’t think he’s interested in anything other than convicting Lucifer in a court of law. Has he discussed your forensics report with you?”

“Dude is back at the police station right now. He’s not even taking the weekend off, the weirdo. Not since the first interview, but I’m sure I’m on his radar anyway.”

“Well, it is a pretty serious matter.”

Lucifer gave him an unfriendly look.

Dan added, “from everyone else’s standpoint, it is.”

Ella crunched on a piece of bacon stolen off someone’s plate. “How are you holding up?”

“We both got to sleep in a real bed, so there’s that. I honestly didn’t expect Lucifer to have a shot at bail, but the judge wanted to jump his bones.”

A chuff sounded from Lucifer. “Luckily for me, I already knew the judge quite well. She does have a fondness for my ‘bones’, and that aside, she can be reasoned with.”

“You mean bribed.”

“Actually, I _do_ mean reasoned with. Judges are very tricky to bribe with money, goods or services, even corrupt ones. Try to bribe the wrong judge and your life gets a lot harder. It’s highly likely that I can cut a deal with the court, if I’m to stand trial. Lawyers and court officers are much more bribable.”

Ella stole more bacon. “So what’s the plan, Stan?”

“Daniel?”

“My fate is going to be tied to yours - If you’re convicted of murder, I can be tried as an accessory after the fact; meaning that if they find out I knew you murdered someone, I can be convicted of not passing along that information. Sinnerman, Cain, Pierce, whomever, is still a dead… human in the court system.”

Ella brightened. “What if we only have to convince the FBI that Pierce wasn’t human?”

Lucifer nibbled on some toast. “But he was.”

“I mean, yes, but not  _really_. He had different rules for survival, right? Fake identities? Maybe I can find some of his older names he went under - maybe I can dig up a photo of Pierce from a hundred years ago?”

“That alone won’t be enough, but it couldn’t hurt. There are some humans alive today who appear uncannily like ones from the last century - it just happens with the genetic mix. Spawns all kinds of conspiracy theories on time travelers. Never met one, if you were wondering.”

Dan rubbed his face. “So there’s no Dr. Who, but there is the Devil. That’s so fucking unfair.”

“That I know of. It’s a big universe.”

“I’m sticking with ‘no time travelers’ for now anyway. Pierce had to have re-used some identities from time to time, just to make it easier on himself. Do you think your lawyer could get a court order for Pierce’s bank accounts? Ella, maybe see if the FBI has already looked into that?”

She nodded, taking notes on her phone. “Sure, I’ll look into that. Out of the three of us, I’ll be in the office on Monday. I’m assuming you guys are on leave now? Or will be?”

“I think that’s a good bet. We don’t currently _have_ a lieutenant, but I should probably find someone down at the precinct to check in with. Which reminds me, don’t get yourself arrested either, Ella. Did you clean that knife after the wing surgery or was it still covered in Lucifer’s blood? I know I didn’t wipe it off.”

Ella looked confident. “I cleaned it, with alcohol, bleach, and the skill of a retired car thief. Even Pierce’s blood won’t have been found on it, unless Hell-blades have some special property I don’t know about.”

Lucifer brightened slightly. “Perhaps there is a path to convincing this obstinate arsehole that imprisoning me-

Dan grunted into his coffee. “Us.”

“-Isn’t in his best interest.” He looked over at Dan. “Believe me when I say that if I must go back to Hell to avoid serving time, I will deeply regret leaving you to hold the bag. What’s happening to you now, because of me, is unfair. But I guess I could always put the blame on Ella for fishing that needle out of a haystack.” He said the last with a smile that wasn’t actually acidic, and she preened rather than taking insult.

He finished his toast. “If the precinct is otherwise unoccupied, perhaps we should all go have a sit-down with Mr. FBI.”

“Not before I get something that could be useful to argue the case.” Ella wagged her finger. “Since I’m guessing from this conversation so far, you aren’t going to just go whip your wings out and flap them at Mac.”

Lucifer sniffed. “You would be correct in your assessment, Miss Lopez.”

She nodded. “I guess it’s time to science the shit out of this.”


End file.
